Compensation
by Melody Wilde
Summary: On the voyage home, Anthony saved Todd's life, cared for him during his illness, and became his friend and more . Now, Anthony wants to find a way to stay with Todd. This has become an AU, exploring how this might change the events of the play/movie.
1. Chapter 1

This is a _Sweeney Todd_ fic that started out a couple of months ago as a quickie little thing I wanted to write; it mutated into this. I don't own Mr. Todd or Mr. Hope or the _Bountiful_; they're all Mr. Sondheim's, with interpretations belonging to Mr. Burton and Mr. Depp and Mr. Bower. I'm not writing this for profit; heck, about half the time I'm not even writing it for _fun_ . This is pre-movie/play, so there should be no spoilers, unless you have absolutely no knowledge of the basic story. Thanks to my once and future beta-reader, Evilmissbecky; she's the one who said I should share this, so thank/blame her. Warnings: Not much for now. It's _me_ writing here, so you _know_ there's going to be pain and remembered pain, right?

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Compensation_

By Melody Wilde

One

He was dreaming again.

The sounds jerked Anthony out of his own fitful sleep. He rubbed at his eyes with one hand and reached out with the other to grasp a bony shoulder and shake it gently.

"Sir? Wake up, sir. You're safe now. It's only a dream." More like a nightmare, from the way the man cried out and fought. Whatever he was seeing, it was very bad. Anthony shook him again. "Please, sir."

This time, it took only a few moments for the terrified and terrifying noises to slide away to a silence that was almost worse, and for the feeble movements to still. Anthony thought that surely must be a good sign, a sign that the stranger was doing better, that he was going to live after all.

Or maybe it was a sign that he was growing weaker, and slipping away.

o-o-o-o-o

"Mr. Cooper, Mr. Hope, take him down to the room behind the back stairs. Mr. Hope, I'm going to put him in your care."

Anthony stared at the man sprawled on the deck like a dead thing, the man they had just pulled from an ocean half a world away from home. He was thin, almost ghostly pale, closed eyes sunken into great dark hollows that hinted at unspeakable suffering.

"Sir, I believe this man needs far more help than I can give."

"I'll send the ship's doctor down to look in on him, not that I think it'll do any good. I wouldn't be surprised if he's dead before the day is out, poor bugger."

"But sir..."

"I know, lad," Captain Evans said kindly. "I, too, hope he survives, but..." He looked down and shook his head. "Just stay with him and give him what comfort you can in his final hours."

o-o-o-o-o

As they carried him down to the small room, Cooper muttered, "Wouldn't really have taken the two of us, would it. He don't weigh no more than a wet cat."

Anthony made a non-committal sound, taking more of the weight as Cooper shifted to free a hand and open the door. It was a small room, with an even smaller bunk, a stool, and a lantern hanging on the wall. They eased the limp body onto the bed, then Cooper struck a match to the lantern to light it.

"You be all right, then? I mean, if he passes?"

"I'm not a child, Samuel. I've seen death before."

"One of your ma's chickens or some such, I'll wager."

Anthony turned his head to hide his blush. "I'll be all right."

"Not afraid of ghosts, then?"

"There are no such things."

"Are so. My granddad said he once saw—"

"Mr. Cooper. Mr. Hope." Dr. McGuire paused just outside, nodding to them both. Cooper wiggled his eyebrows at Anthony as he slid out the door. "So young Mr. Hope, what have we here?" He pulled the door shut behind him and leaned in to have a look. "Found adrift on the ocean, the Captain said."

"Yes sir. I spotted him and gave the alarm. We managed to grab him just as he let go. Another few seconds and we would've lost him.."

"Lucky man. And there was other wreckage?"

"Yes sir, but he was the only survivor we found."

"He's a very lucky man then. Or will be, if he lives."

"Yes sir."

"Let's have a look, shall we." He leaned forward to press his ear to the man's chest, went still to listen to the labored breathing, then ran careful fingers down each of the limbs and across the chest. "There doesn't seem to be anything broken or—hold on." He had turned the pale face toward the light. "There's the reason he's unconscious."

Anthony peered over his shoulder. There was a wide gash, still oozing blood, across the side of the man's head. He looked away.

"This is going to need stitches."

"What can I do to help, sir?"

"Hold the lantern for me, so I can see better."

"Yes sir." He freed the lantern and held it over the top of the bed. "Like this?"

"Perfect. Now just keep it steady. This won't take long."

The man didn't move—didn't make a sound—as Dr. McGuire cleaned the wound and set five neat stitches carefully in place. "There. That should hold it." He nodded. "You can put that back now. And then why don't you go fetch some blankets and dry clothing while I finish up here."

"Yes sir."

"I hope he pulls through," the doctor was muttering as Anthony quit the room. "I'd like to hear the story he has to tell."

"Me too, sir," he whispered as he hurried down the hallway.

o-o-o-o-o

By the time he returned, with blankets, a spare set of his own clothing, a jug of water, and a chamber pot, there was a narrow white cloth wrapped around the patient's head and the doctor was preparing to leave. "All right. I've done all I can here. Get him dry and keep him as warm as you can." He nodded to the bundle in Anthony's arms. "Do you need help with those?"

"No sir. I can manage."

"I'll check back later. If there's any change, send for me. He's most likely going to need something for the pain if he wakes."

"Yes sir."

He nodded, took one last look, and then departed, leaving Anthony alone with the stranger. Anthony set down his burden and took a deep breath.

"I will need to undress you, sir. I beg your pardon for not allowing you your modesty. I have lowered the light, and I will be as quick as I can." There was no reply, but Anthony continued to talk as he worked, as if the man could hear.

"I'll try to salvage your clothing and have it clean for you when you're well again." He undid the fastenings on the braces, then slid an arm beneath the man's knees, lifting so that he could pull the trousers down. He blushed at the realization that the man was wearing no underwear, looking away quickly.

"And now your shirt." This was harder to remove, as it involved shifting him from side to side, working the lifeless arms out of the sleeves and finally drawing it over his head. "There you are, sir. Naked as the day you were born, but have no worry. I will look at you no more than necessary." He smiled nervously. Pulling one of the blankets free, he began to scrub it across the bony chest, up and down the arms, moving rapidly and efficiently. "As soon as you're dry, I have fresh clothing that I can..."

The words died in his throat. He had rolled the man onto his side to dry his back. And that back was covered with scars—so many scars—some faded to faint white ghosts, some still dark, a few raw enough to have been made within the week. This man had been beaten—beaten often and beaten harshly, without mercy.

"No wonder you look so ill." He swallowed hard, stretching out a hand to run a fingertip across one of the deepest cuts. "Who did this to you, my friend?"

There was a ready answer, of course. These were the sorts of scars worn by prisoners. Convicts. Men who had done such evil that they had been sent to a world where treatment such as this was the norm.

Anthony very much did not want this man to be a convict.

"There are other reasons you might be so marked," he said, returning to his task, quickly drying the back so that he could turn the body and hide it from his sight. "You could be... Or..." He ran the blanket down the legs, one at a time, nodding to himself. "It doesn't matter. You don't look like a convict. You look like...like a man who has been ill used by life."

He knew that much was true. The stranger was so thin, so pale, the only color about him the long, night dark hair that curled loosely around and below the bandage, and even that was broken by a shocking streak of white at the front.

"There's no need to alarm Captain Evans with this just yet. Later, perhaps. Besides, we're easily as far from Botany Bay as we are from home. No convict would be here, floating upon the ocean."

Anthony tried to squeeze the worst of the water from his dripping hair, then put the blanket aside and reached for another. "Since you are unconscious, I think perhaps it would be easier on both of us if I waited to dress you again. Then if you have to... If your body has needs that must be attended to..."

There was, of course, no response. He slid blankets beneath the man, then wrapped them around him, cocooning him until only his white, lifeless face showed. Then he pulled the stool close by the bed and began to wait.

o-o-o-o-o

It was some hours later when the man first moved. He gave a cry, and his head began to jerk from side to side. "No. No! Please...oh god...please...don't..." He began to thrash, as if trying to escape from something, shaking the bunk with the force of his movements.

"Sir? Sir!"

Anthony pressed his hands against the man's shoulders, attempting to hold him still, but it made him fight even harder, his words of denial slurring into a low, unearthly whine in the back of his throat.

"Sir, you are safe, please, sir. No one will harm you here."

The man's eyes opened briefly, dark eyes, filled with a terror beyond anything Anthony could imagine. Then they rolled back in his head and he went limp in Anthony's grasp. His breathing was ragged, and an occasional whimper escaped him, but he was still again.

Anthony leaned back, shaken. "It's only that you didn't know where you were," he said, more to himself than his charge. "That's why you were so afraid. Or perhaps it was your head wound. Surely..." His voice faltered. "Surely you didn't believe that _I_ would hurt you. Is that all you've known? Hurt?"

And with that thought came the realization that the man's words, few as they had been, had held an unmistakable British accent. Anthony bit his lip. "That's still no proof that you are...were... There are many reasons that an Englishman would be so far from home. Everyone on this ship is an Englishman. Oh god..."

Troubled, he tucked the covers around the man again, then leaned back against the wall to keep watch.

o-o-o-o-o

The hours fell into a sort of pattern. The stranger would sleep, then shudder to a kind of half-wakefulness, moaning, struggling against Anthony's gently restraining hands, sometimes retching until the tears slid from his eyes, then fall unconscious again. The doctor came by once, as did the Captain, both amazed to find the man still alive.

And finally, as day gave way to midnight, Anthony dozed himself.

o-o-o-o-o

Some sound woke him. He started, looking immediately toward the man on the bunk, astonished to find the dark eyes open and almost lucid and staring at him with more than a trace of fear.

"Sir?"

"Where am I?" The voice was thick, rusty, as if unused for a long time.

Or made rough by screaming. Anthony pushed the unwanted thought away. "You're safe, sir. You're on the _HMS Bountiful_, out of Plymouth, bound for London."

"London?"

"Yes sir."

"How..." His voice cracked. Anthony lifted the jug of water from beside the bed, unstoppered it, and held it to the man's lips. "Ah." He drank deeply, eyes sliding closed as if he were drinking the finest wine. At last he turned his head away with a soft, "No more."

Anthony set the jug back in place. "We found you adrift on the ocean, clinging to a scrap of wood. I saw you and raised the alarm."

He nodded, then flinched as if the movement had pained him. "Fire... I'm going to..."

Anthony managed to turn him and thrust the chamber pot into place just in time. He heaved and retched, bringing up nothing but the water he had just drunk, then fell back, shivering and exhausted from the effort. Anthony wet a bit of the ruined shirt and wiped it across the man's face—lips, cheeks, eyes.

His lips barely moved. "Others?"

"Other survivors? No sir, only you. It would seem that the good Lord must have spared you for some purpose."

The man made a choked sound that could have been agreement or amusement or pain and turned his face toward the wall.

"Rest now, please. I'll stay with you. We'll talk when you feel more revived."

"Owe you...my life," he murmured indistinctly, and then his features went slack again.

o-o-o-o-o

When several hours had passed with no motion from his charge, Anthony surrendered to his own weariness. He leaned against the bulkhead, closed his eyes, and immediately fell asleep.

o-o-o-o-o

"And how's our patient this morning?" Dr. McGuire bent over the man on the bed, raising an eyebrow.

"He seems to be resting comfortably, sir. He's been like that since late last night."

"Has he awakened?"

"Only once, just for a moment. He drank some water, but vomited it up again."

"And was he able to give you any information about himself?" The doctor was digging through the layers of blanket to set his fingers upon the man's throat.

"He said the word 'fire'."

"I'm sure he'll tell us more when he's able." He nodded. "His color is still poor, but his pulse is stronger. Our guest may yet survive this ordeal."

"I hope so, sir."

"I'm sure Captain Evans will want you to keep watch a while longer, if that's agreeable with you."

"Of course, sir."

"Have you eaten anything at all?"

"I brought a bit of bread with me."

"I'll send someone with a meal and some broth for him to have when he wakes again."

"Thank you, sir."

He closed the door behind the doctor, and turned to find the man in the bed staring at him. He looked toward the door, ready to call the doctor back, but the man whispered, "No. Please."

Anthony looked from the door to the bed, then back. "All right."

The dark eyes turned away from him, their unblinking gaze skimming around the room before coming to rest on Anthony's face once more. "I'm naked."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry. I had to remove your wet clothing and thought it would be best to leave you like that for now."

"Are you going to send me back?"

"Sir?"

"I thought I heard a voice, telling me I was safe."

"That was me, sir."

"Am I dreaming?"

"Dreaming?"

"All of this. The explosion. Falling. Being pulled from the water. Is this all a dream?"

"I cannot speak for the first two, but it is no dream that we found you adrift and rescued you. But all that is behind you now."

"And I'm safe."

"Yes sir."

He closed his eyes, and his face went tight with some emotion Anthony could not identify. Then they snapped open again, and he struggled within the blankets, attempting to sit up. Anthony gently placed a hand on his chest to prevent him.

"Please, sir, rest a while longer, until you regain your strength. There's broth being sent for you."

He went boneless again, falling back onto the pillow. "Sweet Jesus, my head hurts." After a moment, he murmured, "What's your name, son?"

"Anthony Hope, sir."

"Hope. It has been a very long time since I've had hope."

"Sir?"

"You told me that you saw me. Gave the alarm."

"Yes sir."

"Then it would seem that I do have hope again. You saved my life."

"I suppose you could say that I had some part in it."

"And you've been here with me ever since."

He nodded. "The ship's doctor has looked in from time to time, to make sure you were still..." He broke off, shifting uneasily. "All right."

"But you're the one who's cared for me."

"I've done the best I could, sir, and glad to do it. It's no more than any good Christian would do for his fellow man."

The man's lips curved into what might almost have been a smile, if it hadn't been so painful. "There have been few good Christians in my life, Mr. Hope."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Why do you keep calling me 'sir'?"

"Out of respect. And because..." He ducked his head. "I don't know your name."

"It's Benj...Todd. Sweeney Todd."

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Todd."

"Likewise. I think I'll sleep now." And his eyes closed and he drifted away again.


	2. Chapter 2

Because I think I have to say this every time, right?, I do not own Mr. Todd or Mr. Hope or the _Bountiful_ or Misters Sondheim, Burton, or Depp. (If I did, they'd be making a lot more movies like this one.) The only one making a profit from all this is the above named gentlemen, because I'm doing my best to make them rich with repeat business. Thanks or blame (depending on your feelings for this) should go to my wonderful friend and beta, Miss Becky. Pain, remembered pain, and all sorts of angst. Spoilers for only the basic concepts of the play/movie.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Compensation_  
By Melody Wilde

_Two_

Cooper came at mid-morning with broth and food, and offered to relieve him, but Anthony shook his head. "I'll stay. But if you could bring me something else to eat later—maybe some more of this—I would be in your debt."

"He told you anything yet?"

"Little." He found himself reluctant to discuss this man, even with a friend.

"Need anything else?"

"Nothing, thank you."

"Should I send the doc by?"

"He's already been here this morning."

"All right then." And he was gone.

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony sat nibbling at the food Cooper had brought, watching Todd as he slept, watching the play of the light upon his features. Todd had once been a beautiful man. One could still see the ghosts of his beauty, in the eyes, in the curve of his cheek, in the lips, if one could look beyond the ravages of time and torture.

He flinched inwardly at the word, but the marks on Todd's back told their horrible tale of whippings, deserved or not. What other horrors might this man have endured? And why?

As if catching Anthony's thoughts, Todd suddenly cried out in his sleep. "No. Please. Don't." He twisted, trying to curl himself into a protective ball. "No, no, no..."

Without thinking, Anthony moved to the bed, wrapping his arms around the anguished form, pulling it close to his chest as if Todd were an infant to be soothed. "It's all right," he whispered. "I have you. You're safe. No one will hurt you again, I swear."

Todd went still. "Mr. Hope?"

"Yes sir. You were having a nightmare."

"A memory. Let me go, boy. You're smothering me."

Blushing, Anthony released him and leaned back. "I'm sorry. I was only trying to..."

"I know." He seemed to focus on something just above Anthony's shoulder, shaking himself free of the remnants of the dream. "Thank you."

This time, when Todd pulled an arm free of the blankets and attempted to sit, Anthony did nothing to prevent him. Todd's breath caught as he pushed himself up, waving aside Anthony's unspoken offer of help, moving bit by bit until he could lean back against the wall for support. He raised a hand to touch the bandage around his head.

"You had a wound. You were bleeding."

"That explains why my head feels as if it wants to separate from my body."

"Dr. McGuire said he'd bring something for pain, if you needed it. And there's broth." Anthony retrieved the bowl and held it out.

Todd looked at it, then away. "I'm not hungry."

"I wish you would try, sir."

Todd hesitated for a moment, then reached out for the bowl. His hand shook when he tried to take the weight, and Anthony pulled it back. "If you will allow me to help you, until you are stronger."

"Feed me, you mean?"

"No sir. Help you hold the bowl while you drink."

There was a quick flash of gratitude in Todd's eyes, then he reached out again. Anthony kept one hand firmly on the bowl and put the other hand beneath Todd's, supporting him. Todd sniffed of the contents, then pushed the bowl upward, tilting it toward his mouth. He managed just over a third of the soup, then shook his head.

"I'm going to be sick again."

Anthony set the bowl aside and reached for the chamber pot. Todd was taking quick, deep breaths, his mouth set in a thin line, obviously trying desperately to retain what he had just consumed. After a moment, he lost the battle.

When he was finished, he hung over the edge of the bed, eyes closed, breath whistling in and out, shivering. Anthony set the chamber pot aside and lifted him up again, settling him and tucking his arms back inside, then wrapping the blankets back around him.

"Mr. Todd, sir? Is there anything I can do for you?"

He made a short, negative sound, and let his head drop to the side. For one horrible moment, Anthony thought the violence with which he had heaved had killed him, but then his eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. Anthony dampened the cloth again and drew it across his face once more.

"You're a good nurse, boy." The words were barely above a whisper.

"Thank you, sir."

He continued his ministrations until, at last, Todd's head turned toward him again. Anthony was shocked to see that his face had gone even paler, his eyes even more sunken; he would not have believed it possible.

"I'll go fetch Dr. McGuire."

He was halfway up when Todd whispered, "No."

"I think it would be for the best, sir."

"Please."

"I don't understand. Dr. McGuire is a good man who only wants to help you." He dropped back onto the stool, hesitated, then asked, "What are you so afraid of, Mr. Todd?"

"Life."

"Sir?"

"Life has been unkind to me."

"Do you mean the shipwreck?"

"That too."

His voice seemed stronger, so Anthony dared to ask, "Do you remember what happened to the ship?"

Todd was silent for a moment. "Some of it." He spoke slowly, as if the words were torn from him. "I remember there was a terrible explosion. Something slammed into the side of my head. Then I found myself in the water. It was cold. Very cold. And I went down so far that I despaired of ever rising to the top again." His lips went white for a moment. "And I remember the screams, all around me, men injured and dying. It sounded like..." His voice trailed away.

"I'm sorry if you lost friends there."

"I have no friends. I haven't had a friend for almost as many years as you've been alive, I'd wager."

"I'm not _that_ young, Mr. Todd."

"No, but I am that old."

It was such a sad statement, but delivered with no trace of self-pity. It touched Anthony's heart.

"If you would not think me too forward, I would be honored to call myself your friend."

"Why?"

"Sir?"

"You know nothing about me, save that you pulled me from the water and saved my life. Why are you so eager to befriend a man you barely know?"

"Because I believe you are in need of a friend." He met Todd's gaze. "I saw the marks on your back."

Todd seemed to shrink into himself. He pushed himself upright again, but this time his movements were frantic, desperate. When he spoke, his voice trembled

"What did your Captain say?"

"Nothing. I didn't tell him. I didn't tell anyone."

"The doctor?"

"Dr. McGuire was concerned only with the gash on your head. He didn't examine you any further. No one else knows."

Todd relaxed, but only slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes sir. I've been with you the whole time. And your secret is safe with me."

Todd's expression changed, became wary. He studied Anthony with an intensity that made him uneasy. "Why?"

"Sir?"

"Why would you want to protect me?"

"Whatever happened in your past is your affair. I will not question you about it."

Todd closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, calmer. "If I still believed in God, Mr. Hope, I would think He sent you to me."

Anthony was shocked. "Sir! Not to believe in God is the worst of sins!"

"Go where I have gone and endure what I have endured and tell me there is a God."

"God is everywhere, sir. To deny him is blasphemy."

"He has denied me." Todd straightened. "Where was He when they sent me away? When they hung me in chains and beat me until I couldn't even scream? When they tortured me to simply to ease their boredom or abused me simply because they could. Look at _this_, Mr. Hope, and tell me there is a God." He thrust his arm toward Anthony, turning it to the light so that Anthony could see what he had missed before—the heavy ring of scarring around the wrist, more scars upon the forearm and upper arm, a scar upon the shoulder that looked as if someone had tried to carve their initials into the flesh.

Anthony looked away, sickened. "I am so sorry, Mr. Todd."

He dropped the arm back to his side. "As am I, son. I should never have burdened you with this."

There was a long, awkward moment, then Anthony leaned over, pulling the clothing from the pile of things he had brought the day before. "Whenever you feel able, there is a shirt among these. Perhaps wearing it would make you feel…" He gestured.

Todd took a deep breath, then, with an effort, swung his legs off the side of the bed. "Help me."

"Gladly, sir."

He carefully avoided looking at Todd's body as he slipped the shirt on and buttoned it across Todd's chest, then helped him slide his arms into a thick woolen vest.

"I have trousers too," he said hesitantly. Todd's head dipped once. Anthony took it for consent and knelt to pull them on and draw them as far up his legs as possible. "Do you think you can stand?"

"Yes." He put a hand on the bed and slowly pushed himself to his feet. Anthony caught him around the waist, steadying him, reaching down to pull the trousers into position. "I have braces too and—sir!"

Todd's knees buckled, and he dropped back onto the bed, clearly exhausted. "I'm sorry, Mr. Todd. I should've..." Anthony lifted his feet onto the bed and made quick work of the buttons on his trousers, then pulled a blanket over him. "There. Sleep now. Rest."

"Anthony?" The word was so weak he had to bend forward to hear it.

"Yes sir."

"I have not forgotten that I owe you my life. And I_will_ repay you, as soon as I'm able."

"Don't think of it, sir. There's no need—"

"There is." Todd's eyes slid shut and his breathing almost immediately deepened with sleep.

"No sir. There is not," Anthony whispered.

o-o-o-o-o

Todd was still asleep when Dr. McGuire came for his evening visit, but the sound of their voices woke him. He blinked, then his eyes focused on the doctor and the shadow of fear crept back across his face. Anthony could see the effort he made to smile as if nothing were wrong.

"You must be Dr. McGuire." He fumbled a hand free and held it out. "I am Sweeney Todd. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you—to all of you—for taking me in."

"Think nothing of it, sir. It's good to see you awake." The doctor shook his hand, then muttered, "Now let me just check this..."

He loosened the knot and unwrapped the bandage from around Todd's head. Todd's mouth went tight, but he made no sound as McGuire examined and prodded. At last, he nodded, replaced the linen about Todd's head, and straightened. "I'd say you're well on your way to recovery."

"Thank you, sir." Todd's voice was faint.

"Do you need anything for pain?"

Anthony noticed that Todd hesitated just a second too long before shaking his head. Dr. McGuire did not.

"Excellent! I'll give Captain Evans the happy news that you're awake. He's been asking about you."

"I look forward to meeting him."

"If there's nothing else...?" He looked from Todd to Anthony. "I'll take my leave then. Rest as much as possible, Mr. Todd. And Mr. Hope, you will send for me if you need me?"

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."

Todd relaxed only when the door had closed behind the doctor. Anthony sat down and reached out to place a hand on his arm.

"Why wouldn't you let him give you something for the pain in your head?"

"It's better."

It was so obviously a lie that Anthony did not know how to respond. He simply sat there, staring at his friend, until there was another rap at the door, and Captain Evans entered. Anthony jumped to his feet.

"Sir."

"At ease, Mr. Hope." He turned his attention to the man on the bed. "Mr. Todd, sir. Welcome."

Todd inclined his head politely, but the anxious lines about his mouth were back.

"I ran into McGuire on deck. He told me you're much improved. Glad to hear it. I expect it'll still be a few days before you're on your feet again though."

"I fear so, sir, yes. I apologize for—"

Captain Evans waved him to silence. "You have nothing to apologize for. Please, think of yourself as our honored guest."

"Thank you, sir. You're too kind."

"Do you feel like talking about what happened to the ship you were on? I fear we don't even know her name."

"The _Triumph_.." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid many of my memories of the voyage are...gone."

"Losing part of one's memory is common enough with an injury such as yours. It happened to me when I was a lad not much older than Mr. Hope here. Is there anything you can remember? Something that would help us determine what happened?"

Todd considered, then said slowly, "I remember a fire. If I knew how it began, it is lost. There was a terrible explosion, and I was thrown overboard. Beyond that... I'm sorry."

"If you remember anything else, you'll tell me."

"Of course, sir."

"Good man." Captain Evans smiled. "I suppose Mr. Hope has told you that we're bound for London? Yes? We have several other stops along the way, if you choose to leave us before then."

"London was my original destination. I'd be grateful if you allowed me to accompany you there."

"Of course. Now..." He glanced around. "You can stay here for the remainder of the voyage. It's not the grandest of accommodations, I'm afraid."

"It has been more than adequate, thank you."

"Then if you're feeling improved, perhaps we could allow Mr. Hope to return to his normal duties aboard ship."

Anthony opened his mouth to protest, but Todd spoke first, nodding agreeably. "I'm sure he's had more than enough of playing nursemaid."

"We'll have someone bring you food and look in on you until you're up and about, of course."

"I'll be glad to do that, sir," Anthony volunteered quickly.

"Good lad. Mr. Todd." He nodded. "We will talk again later."

"I look forward to it, sir."

Anthony turned to him the instant the door had shut behind the captain. The smile was gone from Todd's face, and the corners of his eyes were tight with pain.

"You're hurting and you _aren't_ well enough to be left alone."

"I have to be, don't I?" He sounded very tired. "I can't allow myself the luxury of being weak. I won't give them cause for complaint against you. And I won't be such a burden that I'm put ashore at your next port of call. I _will_ go home again."

"Mr. Todd..."

"Leave me, Anthony. I'll be all right. Visit me when you can. I have no doubt that I'll be here for a while yet."

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony was back within the hour, bringing another bowl of broth. "If you can drink this and keep it down, I'll go. If not, I'm going to tell Dr. McGuire that I need to stay with you another day or two."

With an expression of grim determination on his face, Todd took the bowl and silently drained it. Anthony sat by him for half an hour. When Todd fell asleep again without losing the soup, Anthony reluctantly left him and returned to duty.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own the characters or the concept (except Lewis; I'm sorry to say that I own him), and God knows I'm not making any money from this. (Of course, if I did, I'd just use it to go see the movie a few more times.) This has the Good Housekeeping Miss Becky Seal of Approval. Contains pain, remembered pain, and other fun things. Spoilers for the basic concepts of the play/movie.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Compensation_  
by Melody Wilde

_Three_

Todd seemed to be a bit stronger each time Anthony visited to check on him or bring him a meal; both Anthony and Dr. McGuire were encouraged by his progress. Still, Anthony was alarmed the first morning he came into the room with breakfast and found Todd standing, hands braced against the wall above the bed, on legs that were visibly shaking with weakness. 

"Mr. Todd, sir! You shouldn't be—"

Todd gave him a look that shocked him to silence. Then his features softened into those with which Anthony was familiar, and he gave one of his faint smiles.

"Sorry, son. I'm..." He shrugged. The movement made him lose his balance, and he tumbled onto the bunk before Anthony could catch him.

"Mr. Todd?" He set the plate aside and held out a hand.

"I'm all right." Todd shifted onto his side and pushed to a sitting position. As the light fell upon his face, Anthony could see a bruise forming on his jaw, and realized that this was not his first attempt, nor his first fall. Anthony wondered how many other bruises there were, in places where they could not be seen.

"Don't you think you should give yourself another day or two? It's only been—"

"No." Todd interrupted him again, but this time his expression was more weary than angry. "The only way to deal with pain is to ignore it and continue on as if it did not exist."

"A sad philosophy, sir."

"A necessary philosophy."

"I suppose there are times when there's no other choice, but surely here..."

"Not even here. I trust you, Anthony, as much as I will ever trust any man. You have been better to me than I deserve. But the others..." His gaze flicked toward the door, then lowered. "You cannot tell me that there are not a few sharks among the crew who would prey upon a man who is weak."

Anthony was silent, remembering the time Lewis had cornered him in the hold, moving too close, chuckling and whispering words with a meaning that Anthony had not understood. There had been a noise, distracting the man, and he had been able to strike away the hand on his shoulder and make his escape. But it would be far too easy for Lewis—for anyone—to hurt Todd, weak as he was now.

"I see your meaning, sir," he said reluctantly.

"Thank you. Now what have you brought me for breakfast?"

"Only the gruel again, I'm afraid, although I did manage to slip an apple into my pocket as I passed the barrel."

"Good lad." Todd took the bowl and began to eat, not with enjoyment, but as if forcing himself to perform an unpleasant task that had to be accomplished as quickly as possible. He scraped the last spoonful into his mouth, then handed the utensils back. "Your captain came by last night, shortly after you'd gone."

"Sir?" Anthony wondered if it were something from the visit that had prompted Todd to begin to exert himself too soon. "Was there a problem?"

"He said he was only checking on my progress." But he sounded uneasy. Doubtful.

"If that's what he said, then that's what he was doing. Captain Evans is a fair and honest man."

"So I'm told. He offered me books, to help ease the boredom. If you'd go by his cabin and pick them up for me before you come next..."

"Gladly, sir."

Todd shook himself and looked up, blinking, almost as if he were seeing Anthony for the first time. "Back to your duties then, boy."

"Yes sir."

But he stood just outside the door for another quarter-hour, listening to the sounds of Todd struggling to his feet, falling, then struggling up again, wishing he could do something to allay his new friend's fears.

o-o-o-o-o

By the next day Todd _was_ standing, on somewhat wobbly legs to be sure, but still able to remain on his feet. He turned slowly when Anthony came into the room, holding his arms out to either side of his body for balance, and almost smiling.

"Well done, sir." Anthony set the plate upon the stool, then took a pair of boots from beneath his arm handed them to Todd. "I brought you these. I thought they might be of a size."

Todd dropped to the bunk, setting the boots on the floor and staring at them.

"May I help you, sir?"

"I can manage."

Anthony waited as Todd worked each foot into a sock, then a boot, hearing the effort it took in the heaviness of his breathing. When he leaned over to do up the laces, his fingers were clumsy. He attempted to pull them tight, but they slid through his hands.

"Bugger."

"Sir!"

"Sorry, son." He looked up. "It seems I cannot manage after all."

"May I?"

"Yes."

Anthony knelt. "Tell me if it is too tight." Within minutes, he was finished. He rose, and held out a hand to help Todd up. "Are they a fit, sir?"

Todd shifted a bit unsteadily from foot to foot. "Only a bit too large. Are they yours?"

"No sir. They are yours now."

He looked down, shaking his head. "I am more and more in your debt," he said quietly.

"Not at all, Mr. Todd."

"Give me another day and I will be testing these boots on the deck of the ship."

"Yes sir." Anthony nodded agreement and kept his opinions about Todd's stamina to himself.

o-o-o-o-o

Two days later, when Anthony brought his supper, Todd said, "I think I might be strong enough to try a turn around the deck later, if you'll accompany me."

"Gladly, sir, whenever you like."

"After dark, I should think. I don't want to make a fool of myself if I've overestimated my progress."

"There's not a man here who wouldn't understand."

"Perhaps. But I don't know these men. It's one thing to appear weak before a friend, and quite another to be so in the presence of strangers. What is it, Anthony?"

"I believe you have just named me as your friend, Mr. Todd."

Todd tilted his head to one side, seeming to consider, then nodded. "The first I've had in a very long time."

"I am honored." His voice shook slightly with pleasure.

"As am I, to be worthy of your friendship. Now go. I'll see you later tonight."

"Yes sir."

Anthony was smiling foolishly to himself as he closed the door behind him and climbed back up to the deck.

o-o-o-o-o

When he returned, Anthony brought the leather coat he had purchased earlier in the voyage. Todd took one look and immediately shook his head.

"I don't need that."

"Please wear it. The night air's cool, and you've been so ill."

"Anthony..."

"It's only a loan," he said desperately, knowing that he hadn't meant it that way at all.

Todd hesitated for a moment more, and then muttered, "All right." Anthony held it out and helped him pull it onto his shoulders and settle it in place.

"I fear it fits you far better than it fits me." Before Todd could reply, he went on, "If you're ready..."

"I am."

Todd moved slowly, like a man twice his age or more, leaning against the wall as they climbed to the deck, then pausing for a long moment to rest. Anthony hesitated before offering his arm, half expecting it to be pushed away. To his surprise, Todd took it without a word, and they walked out onto the deck.

They had not gone a dozen steps before Anthony realized that this had been a bad idea. Todd was leaning on him more heavily with each passing second, eyes half-closed, lower lip caught between his teeth, chest heaving with ragged breaths. Anthony stopped, and Todd swayed beside him.

"You aren't well enough for this, sir."

"I _am_." His voice was a harsh growl. "_Move_."

Anthony moved, more than a little unnerved by the violence of the words. He threw quick, anxious glances to the side, but Todd seemed unaware of him. The man seemed to be concentrating solely on the act of putting one foot before the other and maintaining his balance. When they reached the railing, Todd released Anthony's arm and collapsed against it, head drooping, clinging to the rough wood.

Anthony swallowed, clenched and unclenched his hands, and whispered, "Mr. Todd?" 

"What?"

"Perhaps you should try this another—"

"No."

Anthony leaned against the rail beside Todd, silent, but ready to catch him if he should start to fall. At last, Todd's breathing became even again, and he raised his head.

"I beg your forgiveness, Anthony."

"Of course, sir."

"You don't understand, boy. You don't know—and I pray that you never do." He turned his face toward Anthony, and there was a look of such vulnerability upon it that Anthony wanted to weep, wanted to take Todd in his arms and hold him safe, wanted to...

Todd's expression went shuttered again, and the thought was gone. He took a deep breath and pushed himself upright again. "Shall we continue?"

"Yes sir." Anthony slid an arm beneath his for support, and they began to walk.

o-o-o-o-o

By the time they returned to his room, Todd's exhaustion was almost frightening. His face was no longer pale; it was grey. He shrugged out of the coat, letting it fall into Anthony's hands, and dropped onto the bed with a half-stifled moan.

"Thank you, Anthony."

"Do you want me to stay with you until..."

But Todd was already unconscious. Anthony put the coat aside, then knelt to remove the heavy boots and set them beneath the bunk, then drew a blanket over Todd's slight, loose-limbed body.

And he stopped there, hands still clutching the edges of the blanket upon Todd's chest, staring at the man sleeping so deeply before him. He remembered staring thus at Todd in those first days and thinking that Todd had once been a beautiful man. He had been wrong. Todd was _still_ a beautiful man.

One of his hands released its grasp on the blanket and moved up to touch the curve of Todd's jaw. His mind was spinning with confusion, part of it very much wanting to finish the thought he had abandoned earlier, when Todd had looked at him with such helplessness, and another part wanting even more to shy away from such ideas and refuse to acknowledge that such feelings could exist.

At last, he tucked the blanket into place, stood to blow out the lantern, and left.

o-o-o-o-o

Once again, Todd surprised him. Before the week was out, Todd was walking unassisted, although Anthony eagerly accompanied him on his trips around the deck whenever possible. It was true that Todd's movements were slow and careful, and that the act of walking seemed to require a great deal of his attention, but he was walking, and feeling secure enough about it to walk during the day as well as at night.

The other sailors were curious about him, of course. Even those who hadn't been involved in the actual rescue knew the story of the lone survivor of the terrible accident, and they all wanted to have a look at him. Mostly, Todd withstood their stares with good grace, nodding and forcing a smile and a greeting. Anthony, walking beside him, was too aware of the way that, with each such encounter, Todd's hands would fold together in front of him, the one on top of the other gripping so tightly the knuckles were white.

His shipmates had asked Anthony about him before, but he'd given vague answers, even to his friend Cooper, afraid he would say too much, or betray some confidence. Seeing him with Todd every day, their questions became more insistent, and at times he found himself responding with far less grace than Todd.

"So that's the bloke, eh?"

At the words, Anthony glanced up from the sail he was mending, opening his mouth to reply, then ducking his head again when he saw the man who had spoken to him. Lewis. Tall, broad-shouldered, with flaming red curls—a bully, and yet he somehow managed to stay out of the way and be forgotten until he chose to be noticed.

"I'm talkin' to you, Hope." He nudged Anthony with a boot.

"That is Mr. Todd, yes."

"Little fella, ain't he? Skinny. A mite pale, but still a looker."

Anthony felt bile rising in the back of his throat. "Leave him alone."

"You still his nursemaid?" Lewis crouched beside him, grinning. "Or maybe somethin' more?"

"You have a foul mind." He yanked the needle so hard that the line snapped.

"Wouldn't blame ya. He's got a pretty little round ass on him. I'd like to—"

Anthony jerked sideways, trying to gain his feet, holding the heavy needle like a weapon. Lewis casually put a hand on his forehead and shoved him over backwards.

"I think I'll just pop over and introduce meself to your Mr. Todd." He ruffled Anthony's hair, then rose and sauntered across the deck to the rail, where Todd stood staring out at the ocean.

His vision blurring with tears of anger and humiliation, Anthony watched as Lewis politely bobbed his head and spoke, watched Todd give a brief smile in return, watched them stand together for a moment, speaking in a low tone. Then Lewis gave another half-bow and turned to walk away.

Anthony swiped the back of his forearm across his eyes and began to repair the damage he had done. He made himself focus on his task, and was so successful that he was startled when a shadow fell across the sail. He glanced upwards, jaw tightening.

"Mr. Todd, sir." He started to rise, but Todd waved him back.

"I'm on my way back to my room for a while. Will I see you for supper?"

Todd had continued to take his meals in his room, even though the captain had invited—even urged—him to join the rest of the crew. He had politely but firmly declined each invitation, giving a variety of excuses, but one night he had confessed to Anthony that the thought of facing a group of strangers across a table terrified him.

Anthony nodded. "I'll bring it as soon as I can. I may be later than usual, though. I have to finish this, and I'm afraid I've made a mess of it."

"No hurry, boy." Todd moved away, his pace firm but slow. Anthony watched until he was out of sight, then returned his attention to the job at hand.


	4. Chapter 4

More pain and suffering ahead. These aren't my characters (except the captain and the doctor and the horrible Lewis); I'm just borrowing Mr. Todd to use and abuse and Mr. Hope to be there for him. Spoilers for general concept of the play/movie only. A big thank you to Miss Becky, my beta reader, chief source of encouragement, and really good friend, who owns this story and said I should share. 

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Compensation_  
by Melody Wilde

_Four_

It was much later than he had anticipated, well past full dark, when Anthony hurried down to Todd's room, food in hand. He tapped at the door, waited, then tapped again.

"Mr. Todd?"

There was no answer. He turned the knob and, finding it unlocked, pulled the door open. The lantern was still burning, and the leather jacket was on its peg, but the room was empty.

He set down the plate, his stomach clenching with anxiety. He told himself he was being foolish, that there was no cause for alarm. He could not expect Todd to sit in the room and wait for him to arrive. Todd had simply grown tired of waiting and gone out for another of his walks. He would be back any minute now, and they would sit and talk as he ate, and share the moments that were becoming so increasingly precious.

"There's nothing wrong," he whispered.

But his hands had begun to shake. He remembered the look on Lewis' face earlier that day, remembered the mocking words. And he remembered the night that Lewis had cornered _him_, alone and in the darkness. He had never been sure what Lewis had wanted of him, but he knew in his bones that it had been sexual, and that it had been wrong. And now Lewis had noticed Todd, and now Todd was missing.

He tried to force himself to think rationally, to be calm. When he was calm—when he would not embarrass both himself _and_ Todd by running across the decks screaming Todd's name like some madwoman—he would go in search of his friend. They would walk back together, shoulders close together, talking softly. Todd would laugh—no, not laugh, for he did not believe he had ever seen the man laugh, but he would certainly smile at Anthony's foolish imaginings.

He counted slowly to fifty, taking a deep breath with each number, then turned and opened the door.

Todd was standing just on the other side, hand reaching for the knob. For a heartbeat, they stood staring—later Anthony could not have told which of them was the more surprised to see the other—then Todd snapped his head to one side, away from Anthony, and took a step forward. Anthony moved back to allow him to enter the room, feeling almost sick with relief.

"Mr. Todd, sir. I was..." He caught himself, realizing he should not admit that he had been concerned. "I brought your supper. I'm sorry I was late."

Todd had gone past him, lifting a hand to lower the wick, keeping his back to Anthony. "Thank you."

He had been too quick to relax. Something was wrong, after all. Todd's voice was tense, strained, as if he were trying to hold himself together. Anthony had heard that tone too many times in the past weeks, when Todd had been ill or in pain and trying to deny it, to mistake it.

"Mr. Todd..."

"If you don't mind, Anthony, I think I'd prefer to eat my supper alone. I'm afraid I wouldn't be very good company tonight."

He hesitated, then said softly, "No sir."

Todd's head half turned toward him. "Please, son."

"No sir." His voice was stronger this time.

He expected Todd to lash out at him. Instead, Todd gave a sigh of resignation and raised the light again. He turned, bowing his head so that some of the wild, loose curls covered his face, and slowly, stiffly, lowered himself to the bunk, keeping one forearm pressed tightly across his stomach.

There was blood on his vest, dark and wet and fresh.

"Sir!"

"It's all right. I'm not hurt."

But he was. Anthony dropped to one knee before him, trying to see just how badly. There was an ugly bruise forming along one of the fine cheekbones, and the flesh around the eye in front of it was beginning to swell. Todd's mouth and chin were stained red from a split in his lower lip. Worst of all, there was a sick, haunted look upon his face.

"Who did this?" But he knew the answer. This was the thing he had feared from the moment he had stepped into the room to find it empty.

"A shark." Todd winced as his lip began to bleed again.

"Lewis." When Todd did not respond, he whispered, "I'm going to get the captain."

"No."

"I'll see that bastard court-martialed and—"

"_No_! You will do _nothing_." Todd's head jerked up and his voice went harsh—that terrible, frightening, harshness that demanded obedience. "It's _over_. No one else needs to be involved." He faltered, then seemed to sink back into himself. "I hoped no one else would know about this. Not even you."

Todd's words pained him. Anthony straightened his shoulders and spoke in the most formal tone he could manage. "Then I am sorry to be here when I am unwanted. I had thought I was your friend, sir, and friends share their difficulties, but I'll take my leave immediately."

"Forgive me, Anthony. I'm…tired." The last word was little more than an exhalation of breath. The admission of weakness was so unlike Todd that it startled Anthony.

And then Todd's eyes met his at last, and there was something so wounded in their depths that it made him gasp. That dreadful confusion was back, the wanting to put his arms around Todd and hold him close, mixed with the feeling that to do so would open windows best left closed.

"Can this be cleaned?" Todd looked away and began to try to shrug out of the vest without moving the arm against his body.

"I think so, sir. Here. Let me."

Anthony helped him slip the vest off his arms with a minimum of movement, then, asking permission with a quick glance, began to unbutton Todd's shirt.

"What happened?" he asked hesitantly.

"I was foolish."

"He found you alone, and in a secluded place." Anthony pushed the fabric aside, then cringed at the wide streak of purpling skin across Todd's lower chest.

"Caught me unawares. Didn't even know he was there 'til he had me up against the wall, saying things to me."

"Things?"

"Vile things."

"And then he struck you."

"Eventually." Todd shifted his hand to press at the bruise. "Ah!"

"Dr. McGuire should see to that."

"Nothing's broken."

"How can you be sure?"

"I've had enough broken ribs to know what one feels like."

Anthony let go of the material, but Todd made no move to rebutton the shirt, instead reaching up to touch his lip. "Could I have a bit of water?"

"Sir..." Anthony caught Todd's hands and turned them over, staring at the split and bleeding knuckles.

"Gently, son."

Without another word, Anthony pulled out his pocket handkerchief and dampened it from the water jug. When Todd reached to take it, Anthony shook his head. "Let me."

"All right." He sat very still as Anthony cleaned the blood away from his mouth, so quiet that Anthony dared to lay a fingertip against his chin and turn it to the side, letting the light fall clearly upon the damaged side of his face.

"Why did he do this?" He didn't know he'd voiced the thought until Todd replied.

"Because he could."

"Sir?"

"It's the same the world over, Anthony, the strong preying on the weak. He hit me because I fought back. He's strong, stronger than me, and he knew it." The dark eyes sparked for a second with something that, in another man, would have been amusement, and he murmured, almost to himself, "But not strong enough, though, not this time."

Anthony rewet the cloth and carefully touched the wounds on Todd's hands, then began to scrub at the stain on the vest. "If it doesn't come out, I'll bring you another." Todd had gone quiet again. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No. I'll mend. I always do."

Anthony put the vest aside and rocked back on his heels. "Do you want me to leave you alone now?" Before Todd had time to answer, he heard himself continue, "Let me stay, please, in case Lewis comes at you again."

"He won't."

"You don't know that."

Todd shifted, wincing at the pain. "He won't. But if you want to stay for a while, I'd be glad of the company."

"Do you think you could eat something?"

Todd glanced toward the plate Anthony had brought and muttered, "Cold, I shouldn't wonder."

"I can get you something else."

"No need." He started to reach for the plate, then realized his shirt was still open and awkwardly buttoned it. "I'll try that."

He took a small bite and began to chew slowly, carefully. Anthony had the feeling he was eating only to avoid having to talk, or answer more questions. He sat at Todd's feet, back against the wall, watching Todd, his heart filling again with those strange emotions to which he could not put a name.

At last, Todd set the plate aside and said quietly, "You're looking at me as if you want to eat me up, boy."

Anthony's face went crimson. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't..." He found himself on his feet, shifting uncomfortably. "I think I should go now, if you're sure you'll be all right."

Todd stared up at him for what seemed an eternity, then nodded. "Sleep well."

"And you, sir."

Anthony imagined that he could feel Todd's gaze on his back until the door was shut between them. It was almost more unnerving than Todd's casual words.

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony slept poorly that night, starting awake time and again from terrible dreams in which Lewis had overpowered Todd and was beating him, cruelly, mercilessly, the way Anthony feared Todd _had_ been beaten in the past. The idea sickened him. He rose just before dawn and went above to stand at the rail and watch the sky for a very long time, thinking, then went for breakfast.

o-o-o-o-o

"Mr. Todd, sir?" He rapped quietly on the door.

"Come in, Anthony."

Todd was sitting up on the edge of the bunk, staring blindly at the floor between his feet. This morning, the bruising of his cheek and the swelling of his eye and lip were spectacular in their dreadfulness. Anthony flinched and turned away,

"I brought your breakfast," he said unnecessarily. "I asked the cook to make it thinner than usual. I thought it might be difficult for you this morning because of...of..."

"Thank you." Todd took the bowl and set it on his lap, but made no move to touch the spoon.

"Can I get you anything else? Some bread perhaps?"

Todd shook his head.

"Are you in pain?"

"Some."

"What is it, sir?"

"Ghosts." He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Sir, I think…"

He was interrupted by a knock at the door and a hearty, "Mr. Todd?"

"It's Dr. McGuire," Anthony breathed.

The bowl clattered to the floor, spilling its contents. "I told you not to bring him." Todd's voice was low, furious.

"I didn't. I swear."

"Send him away."

"I'll try." Anthony opened the door slightly, trying to block the doctor's view of the room inside.

"Mr. Hope. You're up and about early this morning."

"As are you, sir."

"Been with a patient for the past two hours. Thought I might come and check on Mr. Todd's stitches, see if they're ready to come out."

"He's…um…he doesn't…"

McGuire's eyes narrowed. Anthony shifted from foot to foot, not sure which man he feared most at that moment.

McGuire solved the problem for him, pushing him aside and barging into the room. He stopped just inside the door, eyebrows shooting upward.

"Good God, man, why didn't you send for me?"

"Just a slight accident. Nothing worth troubling you over."

"Yes, I can understand why you wouldn't want to bother me for such a trifle," McGuire said dryly. "Hardly worth mentioning, eh?" He leaned from one side to the other, studying the ravaged face. "I suppose you stumbled in the dark and fell."

"As it so happens, yes," Todd said smoothly.

To Anthony's surprise, the doctor chuckled. "It seems that it was a night for accidents of that nature. I've just come from the bedside of one of the crew, who also fell, but with much somewhat worse results. Young Mr. Lewis. I believe you know him, Mr. Hope?"

"Not well, sir. You say he fell last night?"

"He did, and a rather nasty fall at that. His leg was broken in two places, and his right arm..." McGuire shook his head. "I very much doubt that he'll ever have the use of it again."

Todd smiled. For an instant it was a cold, frightening thing to see, but it shifted almost instantly into something else entirely. "I met the young man briefly only yesterday. Please give him my sympathies."

"Oh I will." McGuire's gaze swept over again Todd, eyes sharp. "Did you incur any other injuries in your fall?"

"A few bruises."

"That's all?"

"Nothing more."

"Are you sure?"

"It was a very quick fall. There wasn't enough time for me to be hurt worse."

"I'm glad. Do you feel up to having the stitches out, or should I come back later?"

"Now is fine."

Anthony stood staring from one to the other as the doctor unwrapped the bandage, inspected the head wound, and then pulled out a small pair of scissors and began to snip at the catgut. Todd's hands clenched the blanket beneath him, but he made no sound.

Some message had passed between them, a message that had nothing to do with the words they were saying, but Anthony could not quite bring himself to believe he had understood it correctly.

At last McGuire straightened with a satisfied nod. "Done. I doubt that you'll even have a scar from it."

"Thank you, sir."

"I trust you'll let me know if you have any problems with it, or with any injuries from your accident?"

"You have my word."

McGuire turned, then paused with his hand on the door, looking at neither man and speaking as if to himself. "Mr. Lewis has been a menace who's hurt more than one man since he joined our crew. I fear I can not, in truth, say I will be sorry to see him leave us." He glanced back. "Are you sleeping well, Mr. Todd?"

"Yes sir."

"Because if you are not, I have no doubt I could spare a bottle of medicinal gin. Or rum, if you would prefer."

"Gin would be a great help, sir."

"Excellent. Mr. Hope, if you'll come by later and pick it up. I doubt that Mr. Todd will be leaving his bunk for a day or two. Good day, gentlemen."

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony stared after the doctor's retreating form until it was gone from sight, then closed the door and turned. Todd was leaning back against the wall, waiting, watching, his face—at least the half that was not swollen and discolored—without expression

"Did he think you did that? To Lewis?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I did."

"Sir!"

"Would you rather it had been me lying broken in the infirmary?"

"No sir, but…"

"Do you think the punishment too cruel?" When Anthony only stared, Todd's voice went low, hard. "Would you like to know what he said to me, when he was holding me against the wall with his knee between my legs and his arm so tight across my neck that I could hardly breathe? What he said when he put his hands on me and—"

"Mr. Todd, sir, please."

Todd ignored him, eyes blazing now, seeming more than half crazed. "He told me what he meant to do to me, whether I would allow it or not. And then he put his mouth against my ear and said, 'You won't tell anybody. They never do.' I understood his meaning all too well. I understood that his other victims had been ashamed to speak out against him—that I was not the first man he had hurt this way." He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again there was a cold satisfaction in his voice. "But I am the last."

Someone gave a great sob. Anthony was startled to realize that the sound had come from him, that he was standing with his back pressed against the door, eyes wide, shaking. 

"Ah. Has this cost me your respect and your friendship, Mr. Hope?"

"I just…I don't…" Anthony swallowed, still trying to sort out what he had just seen and heard and put meaning to it.

It was the wrong answer. Todd whipped forward, stifling a sound of pain from the movement, bent to seize the empty bowl from the floor, and shoved it at Anthony.

"Take it." His voice was rough with some emotion Anthony could only guess at.

"Sir, I…"

"Take it. Leave me."

"Yes sir."

He was almost out the door when he heard Todd whisper, "A rabid animal must be put down, Mr. Hope. And someone must pull the trigger. That, too, is the same the world over."

"Yes sir."

"Don't come back. I have no appetite. Now go."

Harsh as the words were, there was something broken in them. But Anthony was too troubled at that moment to be able to respond—to know _how_ to respond. He pulled the door shut behind him and walked away as quickly as he could.


	5. Chapter 5

The usual disclaimers: Anthony and Mr. Todd do not belong to me (nor do I want them, because the one is easily young enough to be my son and the other is just cute-but-_scary_), but everybody else does, even, sadly, Mr. Lewis. I'm not making money here, just bashing poor Mr. T. around much more than he deserves. Poor thing. If you know the basics of the play/movie, there are no spoilers. Thanks to Miss Becky for being the best of betas and for egging me on. And thank you to the folks who have left reviews or put this on their "I Kinda Like This" story lists! I've made a couple of historical mistakes in this, oops, so apologies for those.

_Compensation_  
by Melody Wilde

_Five_

Anthony made an effort to distance himself from his shipmates for the rest of that day and most of the next, troubled, not wanting their company. He avoided the communal meals, waiting until the others were finished and then bolting his food and leaving; he rose early and went to his bunk as late as possible.

He refused to allow himself to think about the one person whose company he _did_ want, whose company he craved. Todd was wrong. There were other ways. There was no need to cripple a man so brutally, without remorse, no matter what that man had done.

His mind was in turmoil. He wanted to forgive his friend; Todd had been hurt too, could've been hurt much worse. At the same time, he wanted to flee from Todd, from the coldness of Todd's smile, the hint of insanity in his face, and the cruelty in his voice when he had spoken of Lewis.

There were only a few men still at the table when Anthony arrived. He took his plate to a seat at the end, where he could fix his eyes upon the food and hope none of them would speak to him. And then he found that he could only toy with his food and wonder if Todd were hungry—for he certainly was not taking meals with the crew—or hurting badly or lonely.

"Hope! Ain't seen much o' you lately." Cooper dropped onto the bench beside him, grinning. Anthony tried to smile back.

"I've had things to do."

"You hear wot happened to Lewis the other night?"

"I heard that he fell, yes."

Cooper snorted. "Fell. That'll be wot they tell, I'll be bound, but ain't wot happened." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "The bastard finally tried to have the wrong bloke, and got the shite kicked out of him."

Anthony made a non-committal sound.

"I wish I knew who done it. I'd like to shake his hand."

"Why?" The question was out before Anthony could think to remain silent.

The good humor faded from Cooper's face. "You know why."

"No. I don't."

Cooper moved his head even closer to Anthony's and whispered, "'cause Lewis liked to get you alone an' hold you down and use you like you was a woman, that's why."

Anthony felt as if the blood were rushing away from his face. He knew he was far too innocent in the ways of the world, having chosen to avoid the brothels his companions frequented on shore leave, but he knew enough to say, "That's not possible."

"Little you know." There was something far too bitter in Cooper's tone.

"He didn't…?"

Cooper glanced away and bobbed his head once, quickly. "Yeah. He did me."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry." Even as he said the words, Anthony realized how foolishly inadequate they were.

"That ain't the only reason I'm glad somebody put him down, tho'. It's 'cause I know I ain't the only one he took."

"The only one he..."

"Fucked. After it's happened to you, you can tell when somebody else's been had, just from the way they look next day. I seen that look too many times these past three months, since he got to me."

"Why didn't you band together and go to the Captain?"

Cooper made a rude noise. "'Cause it ain't somethin' you talk about. You don't want nobody else to know what happened, not even your best friend."

_"I hoped no one else would know about this. Not even you."_

Anthony heard Todd's words as clearly as if the man had been standing behind him, and suddenly he understood what Todd had been trying to say.

"You think you shoulda been able to do somethin' to stop him. Fight him off. You're hurt and you're shamed and you don't wanna be 'roun nobody else, but you don't wanna be alone neither. Remember back when I was hangin' round you like a puppy dog for a week or so, not lettin' you out of my sight?"

"Yes."

"That's when it happened. Bein' with you…it made me feel better somehow. Let me forget for just a little bit what I ain't _never_ gonna forget."

"Cooper, I'm…I wish…"

He shook his head. "Over and done and he won't never hurt nobody ever again, now will he?"

_"I was not the first man he had hurt this way. But I am the last."_

"No. He won't."

"That's why I'd like to shake the hand of the one what did _him_. Buy him a drink when we make port. Ah well. Didn't mean to make you look so sad." He rose, slapping Anthony on the shoulder. "I'm standin' watch so I'd best be off."

"Goodnight, Cooper. And thank you."

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony began to walk blindly about the ship, the things Cooper had said turning over and over in his mind. At one point, he found himself below decks, standing outside Todd's door, his hand raised to knock. He stood there for a long time, then let his hand fall and backed away, suddenly unsure if Todd would want to see him, after all the things that had been said.

It was late, past midnight, and the ship was very quiet, and Anthony was making his tenth—or hundredth—trek around the deck when he saw the shadow, in deeper shadows, leaning against the forward rail. His heart leaped as the figure moved and the moonlight let him see flashes of white—shirtsleeves, face, the streak in the dark hair.

"Sir?"

Todd didn't turn, didn't even acknowledge Anthony's approach. He continued to stare out across the water, his face hard as stone.

"Where's your coat?" It was not what Anthony had meant to say, and he cringed inwardly.

"I'm not cold." Todd's voice was flat, without emotion.

"You must be. That wind off the water bites right through you."

Todd shrugged, and Anthony noted that it was only with his right side; he was still holding his left arm firmly across his ribs.

"How long have you been out here?"

"A while." He shivered suddenly. "My room was...too close."

"Take my coat, sir." Without waiting for a response, Anthony stripped off his heavy peacoat and draped it across Todd's narrow shoulders. Todd's eyes shut briefly as he huddled into the warmth.

Anthony took a deep breath. "Mr. Todd, sir, I owe you an apology."

"You owe me nothing, lad. The debt is all on my side."

"I didn't know…didn't realize… What you did was right."

"And what brought about this sudden change of heart, Mr. Hope?" Todd still refused to look at him.

"My friend Cooper. He was..."

"Ah. One of those who were not able to escape Mr. Lewis's attentions?"

"No sir. He didn't."

"Then I am sorry for him. It's a difficult thing to live with, being used, knowing you weren't able to protect yourself."

"But, sir, _you_ were able to fight Lewis off."

"I was able to fight _him_ off."

Anthony did not miss the change in emphasis. "Mr. Todd, were you…?"

"Is there anything else before you go on about your business?" he said abruptly.

"I want you to forgive me for being so…so young and ignorant. Please. I want you to be my friend again."

"Your friend." At last Todd turned to face him, and Anthony forced himself not to look away from the darkened and misshapen features. They looked even worse than when he had left Todd the morning before. "Not a very pretty sight, is it, boy?"

"No sir. It isn't."

"And yet this…" He gestured. "This is _nothing_. I have been hurt _far_ worse, by men who are so evil that they make Lewis seem a saint. You could not begin to conceive of the ways I have been hurt, or the _times_ I have been hurt."

"I…I saw the marks on your back…"

"The marks on my _back_." Todd almost growled the words, his voice deep and terrifyingly intense. "They fade to insignificance beside the marks left on my _soul_."

He took a step closer to Anthony, and Anthony imagined that he could feel the pain and anger and madness flowing from the other man and filling the space between them. He fought the urge to back away, run, hide from Todd and the terrible things that he was saying.

After what seemed like an eternity, Todd looked away, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost inaudible. "You don't understand, Mr. Hope. You don't _want_ to be my friend. You don't _know_ me…not the man I was, not the man I became. You only know the man I am _now_, for these few days, on this ship."

"_Are_ you a convict, then?"

"Yes. Does it matter?"

Anthony responded without hesitation. "No. It doesn't."

Todd took one shuddering breath, and then his knees seemed to give way, throwing him against the rail. Without thinking, Anthony reached out to embrace him, and, for a long moment, Todd allowed himself to be held. But at last he shook free and straightened.

"Let me walk with you back to your room, sir."

Todd gave a quick, tired nod.

They were silent as they moved across the deck and down the stairway. Anthony awkwardly lit the lantern, then slid his coat off Todd's shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Todd cautiously eased himself down onto his bunk, and his eyes slid shut.

"Should I go, sir?"

"It doesn't matter."

Anthony shifted and sat on the bunk beside Todd, half-turning his head to stare at his friend. Todd was more than his friend. He was...

Anthony was shocked beyond words to realize he very much wanted to lean over and kiss the swollen, beautiful mouth. Hold Todd against him, as he had for that too-short time on deck. Press his face into Todd's hair and stroke his back until he relaxed and…

"Anthony?"

He started guiltily. "Sir?"

"You have a very strange look on your face, boy."

"I'm sorry. I was just…thinking."

"I was innocent of the charges against me." Todd's voice went soft.

"Yes sir."

"You believe me so easily?"

"Yes sir."

"Even though _all_ convicts protest their innocence?"

"Yes sir."

"Thank you, son." He lifted a hand. It hovered over Anthony's knee for a moment, then he dropped it back to his side and whispered, "Not yet."

"Sir?"

"I'm cold." He reached for a blanket, catching his breath and pressing his arm to his side again at the movement.

"Here." Anthony bent around him, tugging the blanket free and pulling it up, wrapping Todd in both it and his arms before he could think.

"Not yet, son. Soon." Todd drew away from him.

"Sir?"

"It's late. You should go back to your bunk and get some rest."

"Yes sir." He stood. "Should I bring breakfast tomorrow morning?"

"I think so, yes."

"I'll see you then." With a quick smile, Anthony retrieved his coat and backed out of the room.

o-o-o-o-o

Todd stayed in his cabin, walking the decks only at night, until the bruises had faded and the swelling gone. Once again, Anthony visited him there whenever possible, bringing him food, sitting with him, talking—although he had come to realize that it was he who did most of the talking, Todd listening quietly and asking an occasional question.

Anthony found himself watching Todd as he walked on deck, or sat quietly in a corner reading one of the books the captain had loaned him, or leaned on the rail looking out to sea and lost in thought. Although he had recovered from all his injuries, it seemed that no amount of sun could darken the pallor of his skin, and no amount of rest could ease the dark circles around his eyes.

But, Anthony thought, he was still beautiful.

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony watched as Todd scraped up the last bite of the evening meal and put it into his mouth, then reached for Todd's plate. "I'll just get these back to the galley." He retrieved his own and stood.

"Anthony."

"Yes sir."

"I overheard two of the men talking today. They said we're a week from London."

"Yes sir. Perhaps a bit longer, perhaps a bit less, depending on the wind and the current."

"Then it's time." He looked away, and his next words were low, as if he were speaking to himself. "It has to be."

"Sir?

"Do you have duty tonight, Anthony?"

"No sir."

"Then after you leave those, perhaps you would come back for a while." 

"Gladly, sir." He nodded and smiled. "I'll be quick."

"You do that, lad."

As he hurried toward the galley, it occurred to him that there had been a strange sort of tension—almost anxiety—in Todd's voice. He wondered if something were wrong. If Todd needed his help in some way.

But he still continued to smile, thinking that whatever the cause, he would be allowed to spend more time with the man who had come to mean so much to him.


	6. Chapter 6

Warning/alert/whatever. In this part, the story goes where everybody _knew_ it was going to go eventually, so if m/m activity bothers you, stop now and assume everybody lived happily ever after (even if you know better). These folks don't belong to me, no money was made, and there are spoilers only for basic concepts of the play/movie. Many thanks to Miss Becky for everything.

_Compensation_  
by Melody Wilde

_Six_

"Mr. Todd? I'm back."

"Come in, Anthony. Shut the door."

Todd was still seated on the bunk, but now he was holding a bottle balanced on his thigh. As Anthony entered the room, he raised it and took a long, deep drink, then held it out. Hesitantly, Anthony accepted the bottle and eased himself down onto the stool before Todd.

"It's good gin, son. Try it."

He sniffed of the bottle, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "Thank you, but...no."

He handed it back. Todd tipped it up again. Anthony watched the movements of his throat as he swallowed again and again, and, when Todd lowered the bottle, he was shocked to see how much the level of the alcohol had dropped.

"Sir, are you all right?"

Todd ignored the question, stoppering the bottle and bending to set it carefully on the floor. He took a deep breath and clasped his now empty hands between his knees, then raised his head to meet Anthony's gaze.

"You saved my life, Anthony." 

"I'm glad I was able to do so, sir."

"You've done so very much for me. Saved my life. Nursed me. Gave me your clothes. Brought me food. Been my friend, and said it didn't matter that I was..."

Anthony opened his mouth to reply, but Todd waved him to silence. "I swore I'd repay you when I could. And now..." His eyes cut sideways to the gin, then back. "Now I like to try."

Anthony blinked. Something was wrong. He had never seen Todd drink. The bottle Dr. McGuire had provided over a fortnight before had set unopened by the bed until now. And there was something disquieting in Todd's expression—determination in the set of his jaw, anxiety in the lines forming around his eyes.

"You owe me nothing, sir, truly."

"But I do." Todd leaned forward and his words came out in a rush. "From now until we make port, I am at your disposal."

Anthony blinked again. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm yours, boy, to do with as you want."

"I don't understand. Do with?"

"Sexually, Anthony," he said patiently.

And then he _did_ understand. His face flamed with color, and he dropped his eyes, unable to look at the other man. "Mr. Todd, if in any way I have given you the impression that I want...that I would..."

"Is it that you don't find me to your taste?"

"No sir, you're very much..I mean...no sir."

"Then use me." Todd's voice went quiet, but there was something hard—cold—in his tone. "Everything I own in this world has been a gift from you. My body is the only thing that is my own. It's all I have to give you in return for all you've given me."

Anthony shivered. "You don't...it wouldn't be...right for me to...to take advantage of you...for you to...just because..."

"Look at me, boy."

Reluctantly, he raised his head. Todd lifted a hand and settled it on the back of his neck, pulling their faces closer. "I'm offering myself to you. I had thought you wanted me."

"I..."

"If you do—if want me to service you—then accept my offer. If not, go, and we'll never speak of it again."

Anthony very much wished he could look away from those knowing eyes, but he felt he was being held captive by them, that he could not lie to them, or to himself. Because, God help him, he did want it. The very thought of what was being offered had made him go embarrassingly hard, even though he only the vaguest idea of what two men could do together. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to say no, but he was afraid to say yes.

"Lock the door."

The decision was made for him. Hands shaking, he leaned across the small space and turned the key in the lock.

"Lower the light, if you think it will make you more comfortable."

He stood, astonished that his legs would support him, and turned the wick until the room was almost dark, then gasped as he felt Todd's hand on the bulge in the front of his trousers.

"I thought as much." It was almost a sigh. "Tell me what I can do for you, Anthony. I'll do anything you ask."

"I don't understand."

"Do you want my hands? My mouth? My body? Perhaps all three. You're a young man, with a young man's appetites, I shouldn't wonder."

He swallowed, feeling torn between desire and shame. "Sir, do you...have you ever...?"

"I have enough experience, boy. I can do whatever you want, and do it well. I promise that you will be satisfied, in whatever you ask."

"Mr. Todd..."

"Tell me. Don't be shy. What do you want me to do?"

"I...I hardly know, sir...just that I...I _want_." He forced the last word out.

Then Todd was moving, hand on his elbow, pulling him down onto the bed, pressing him back against the thin mattress, dropping to his knees beside the bed. "Lie still, boy, and let me lead. I'll begin slowly enough."

He closed his eyes, his muscles going tense as fingers unbuttoned his trousers, then slid inside, almost touching him where he most wanted to be touched.

"Help me, Anthony—lift your hips."

He did, and felt the material stripped away, exposing him from the waist down, allowing his erection to spring free. Todd's hand began to slide up his bare leg, ankle, then calf, then knee, then thigh, edging ever closer, ever nearer, until Anthony thought he could not bear the wait.

And then he felt himself caught, grasped by a hand other than his own for the first time in his life. "Sir..." His voice was a strangled moan.

"Gently now."

The words were a breath against his body, a breath that coupled with the pressure of Todd's hand to make him arch and cry out. He felt as if the world were falling away in a dizzying rush of sensations greater than he could ever have imagined. And then Todd's hand moved, and his hips began to jerk helplessly and he shuddered to completion.

He barely heard Todd's voice, barely understood what he was saying. "I'm sorry, son. I hoped it would last a bit longer for you. That I could do a bit more for you before you spilled."

"It was...you..." He couldn't find the words, could only lie there and stare up at the man leaning over him. Todd was little more than a shadow—not a stranger, and yet, in this moment, not the friend he had known He had become something between the two, something new, and the knowledge filled Anthony with both joy and terror.

Impossibly, he was growing hard again, rising as Todd's capable hands began to work upon him, lifting and cupping and caressing and sliding down to touch him in places he barely acknowledged.

"Do you want me to take you in my mouth?"

The very idea almost sent him over the edge again. "Yes."

Todd rose on his knees to bend over. And then Anthony felt those beautiful lips upon him, felt that beautiful mouth opening to take him in, slowly, ever deeper, tongue moving upon him, fingers exploring those forbidden places, until he lost all will to control and thrust up, again and again, until his orgasm shook him. He felt Todd let him slide free, saw the other man straighten...and then he faded into insensibility.

A sound roused him—the sound of someone retching violently, someone very close. He pushed himself up onto one elbow. "Mr. Todd?"

Todd was leaning over the chamberpot, shoulders heaving. Alarmed, Anthony sat up and lay a hand on Todd's back. "Sir?"

"Sorry, son." With an obvious effort, Todd lifted his head. Tears were running down his cheeks, and his eyes seemed huge in the dim light. "It's the gin. I shouldn't have drunk so much." He reached for the water jug and rinsed his mouth, then, in one efficient movement, unlocked the door, set the chamberpot outside, and relocked it. He swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, rinsed his mouth once more, then attempted a smile. "I'm quite all right now."

"Do you want me to..."

Todd interrupted him with a quick shake of the head, letting him know the matter was finished. Anthony was silent for moment, then awkwardly muttered, "Mr. Todd, may I ask something else of you?"

Todd's eyes closed for so brief a second that Anthony thought he might have imagined it, but Todd's voice was steady when he said, "Anything."

"I would very much like to...to share this bed with you. Just...lie here and...hold you for a little while. I know it's a narrow bed, but I thought...neither of us are..."

Without replying, Todd rose. He took a moment to pull Anthony's trousers back into place, then perched tentatively on the edge of the bed.

"Do you want me toward you or away?"

"Toward, please, sir."

Todd eased himself down, and the movements of his body against Anthony's as he settled into place, so close that they shared breath, made Anthony go half-hard again. Todd was pressed tightly against him, and Anthony dared to put an arm across the narrow waist to hold him there.

"Should I...is there anything I can...do for you?" He got the words out in a rush. "I mean...the way you did for me?"

Todd's head went sharply from side to side.

"Nothing?"

"No."

He lay there for a moment, enjoying the sensations, then whispered, "Mr. Todd, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Will I go to hell for this?"

Todd made an unidentifiable sound. "Go to sleep, boy."

Anthony shifted again, lifting a leg and draping it across Todd's thigh. He thought he heard Todd catch his breath, thought he felt the slight body quiver once, but then he was asleep.

o-o-o-o-o

Someone was shaking him gently, whispering, "Time to wake, son." He shook his head, all the discipline he had learned from the Royal Navy vanishing in the strange lassitude that seemed to be overwhelming him.

"I'd imagine you wouldn't want your shipmates to find you like this come morning."

His eyes snapped open. "Mr. Todd?" He glanced around the room. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"It's all right. If you hurry, you can make it back to your own bunk and none will be the wiser."

Anthony sat up and pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. It was still early—not really time to rise and resume his duties—but he understood that it was time for him to go.

But he didn't want to. He wanted to stay here, wanted to ask Todd to kiss him, to hold him, to do more of those dreadful, delicious things to him.

"Anthony?"

"Yes sir." He scrambled to his feet, then realized the buttons on his trousers were still undone as the cloth began to slide downward. He grabbed at them, ducking his head, looking away, hoping Todd wouldn't notice how aroused he'd become just from thinking about the things he wanted. "I'll be gone in..."

His words caught in his throat as he felt Todd's hand upon him again, and he dared a quick sideways glance. Todd's face was still, except for a muscle that worked in his jaw, as if he were setting his teeth.

"Mr. Todd, sir?"

"Do you want me to take care of this?"

"I wouldn't ask you..."

"Ask me, Anthony. _This_ is all I have to give you." The words were almost a growl. Before Anthony could reply, Todd dropped to one knee, wrapped an arm around the back of Anthony's thighs to brace himself, and opened his mouth to take Anthony in.

Anthony gasped, his hands involuntarily slipping into Todd's hair, fingers sliding through the loose curls to pull him closer. Todd made a small sound in the back of his throat, and then began to move, all lips and tongue, nose rubbing against his groin as Todd shifted position to take him deeper. 

"Hush, lad. You'll wake someone."

He hadn't realized he was making noises, until he heard the quiet warning. "I'm sorry." He was shaking so hard that it was difficult to stand.

And then the mouth was upon him again, working its magic. He didn't want it to end. He wanted it to go on forever. But his body responded too eagerly, too quickly, and he had barely time to throw his forearm against his mouth to silence his cry as he came.

Todd released him and leaned back on his heels, head bent, breathing so heavily that Anthony was alarmed. "Sir?"

"You need to go now." Todd's voice was faint. "Hurry."

"Yes sir." His fingers were clumsy as he did up his trousers and turned the key. He paused with his hand on the door. "Mr. Todd, sir?"

"Yes.""May I come back tonight?"

There was only the slightest hesitation before Todd nodded. "I promised you the week, did I not."

"Yes sir."

There seemed nothing more to say. Anthony slipped out the door and pulled it shut behind him and made his way back to his bunk.

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony saw Todd several times during the day. Todd did not look well, somehow, his face drawn, haggard, but when Anthony greeted him, he responded with one of his half-smiles.

It was late afternoon when he beckoned to Anthony. "Mr. Hope, a word, if you please."

"Yes sir." Anthony eagerly put down his mop and pail and followed Todd to a quieter part of the ship.

Todd put his back to the rail, leaning against it. "Anthony, you must stop this."

"Sir?" He blinked.

"Every time you've seen me today, you've looked at me as if you were welcoming the Second Coming of Christ."

"I'm sorry." He flushed. "I didn't realize..."

"Then _do_. Do you know what I'm saying, lad?"

He swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good." Todd straightened and turned to go, but Anthony stopped him with a quick touch on his arm.

"Must I ignore you then, sir?"

Todd's expression almost softened. "No, son. Just behave as you did before—as you did yesterday, before...last night. Treat me as you would any friend."

"Yes sir."

Todd turned again, then paused, not looking back as he spoke. "Anthony, don't mistake this for something it is not. You must understand that what passes between us is not love. It is lust. It is friendship. It is..." He hesitated. "Compensation."

"Sir?"

"Tonight."

And with that, he strode away.


	7. Chapter 6a

One last bit, while I'm still at a non-dial-up computer.

This bit is a sideways (and backwards) jump from the main story. It covers events that have already happened, but from a different point of view. And it might've "fit" better earlier, but for various reasons, this is where I decided to put it. I wrote this because several of the folks who were following this story over on LJ wanted to know the details of this event.

Standard disclaimers: I'm very very sorry to say that Lewis belongs to me, but nobody else does. I'm not making money from this; just the opposite—I'm sending my hard earned dollars off to Mr. Burton and company and will for as long as the movie stays in town. Spoilers for previous parts of the main story, but probably nothing else. If you've been reading that main story, you can probably guess that this is going to contain sexual threats, crude language, and violence.

And big thanks to Miss Becky for the beta and for the great line that I stole adapted from her beta comments.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Compensation, Part 6a: Shark Bait_  
by Melody Wilde

The man was a shark.

Lewis was polite enough on the surface, introducing himself as a friend of Anthony's, inquiring after Todd's health in a too-solicitous manner, offering any assistance he could give. But there was a flash of interest in those green eyes, in the way his gaze flicked down Todd's body and back up, and there was an unnecessary display of strength in the handshake that lasted just a moment too long, and the grip that was just a bit too firm.

Shark.

Todd watched the man swagger away, then turned his attention back to the sparkle of sun on water and the splash of foam breaking against the side of the ship. He had discovered it was calming to lean against the rail and stare out to sea, forcing his mind to be still, neither thinking about the past nor wondering what the future might hold. That peace was gone now.

Lewis meant to have him. He had no doubt of that. It had been three years and more—ever since the day his body had finally become too scarred and his face too haggard for him to be appealing to even the most brutal of his fellow prisoners—since he had seen that look directed toward him, but it was not something one forgot. Not after all the times he had seen it in the years before, in the eyes and faces of men like Lewis.

Todd's hands tightened on the rail. It was ironic that after so long a time, when he had thought he was well and truly free of such things, there were two men on this ship who wanted him. Lewis. And Anthony.

He very much doubted that the boy was even aware of the wanting that Todd saw sometimes in his eyes, or recognized the feeling for what it was. But he would learn, because from the first hint of it in the wide, innocent eyes, he had known that he would offer himself to the boy. Although he knew that whatever he was asked to do would be painful in every way, and might well drive him mad, he had made the decision and he would abide by it. In all the years he had been away, Anthony was the first person who had been kind to him, who had cared for him, who had shown him the slightest hint of compassion. He owed the boy too much, and his body was the only currency he had left with which to repay him.

He would _give_, yes. But he would never again be _taken_.

He considered the options for dealing with Lewis. Going to the Captain was out of the question. He had no proof—_wouldn't_ have proof until he'd been hurt or used—and besides that, he had no wish to call undue attention to himself from that quarter, risk having Captain Evans ask questions he would prefer not to answer. Or he could do nothing, wait and hope he would be forgotten and live in fear, until Lewis caught him alone and attacked him; he was quite sure _that_ would happen before the voyage's end, even if Lewis had to resort to breaking into his room and assaulting him there.

Or he could take the offensive. Go looking for Lewis and make sure that they met on _his_ terms, when he had a chance to escape.

It was an easy decision to make. Turning, he began to stroll idly around the perimeter of the deck, running his hand along the rail, pausing every now and then to glance out at the water, until he found what he was looking for. It was but a moment's work to pull it free and slip it up the sleeve of the leather coat, where no one would see.

He continued to walk, making his way back to where he had begun and pausing beside Anthony, who was struggling with a ripped piece of sail. "Anthony?"

"Mr. Todd, sir."

Todd waved him back. "I'm on my way back to my room for a while. Will I see you for supper?"

The boy nodded. "I'll bring it as soon as I can. I may be later than usual, though. I have to finish this, and I'm afraid I've made a mess of it."

"No hurry, boy," he murmured.

Tonight, then. Tonight, when Anthony would not be there to get in the way or try to stop him, he would go shark hunting, with himself as the bait.

o-o-o-o-o

There was no need to plan; he knew exactly what he meant to do. Lewis would be hunting tonight too, searching for someone to slake the lust that had been in his eyes as they stood at the rail. Todd intended to be sure that _he_ was the one Lewis found.

He hung his coat on the peg and settled onto the bed, picking up a book to pass the time as he waited. At last, the silence from the deck above him told him that most of the men had gone in to supper. It was time.

He stood, retrieved the belaying pin that he had taken, and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers at the back, pulling the heavy vest down to cover it. In the dark—and he was sure the attack _would_ be in the dark—he doubted Lewis would notice anything amiss.

Pulling the door shut behind him, he set out.

o-o-o-o-o

There was little light in the lower decks. Todd walked slowly, carefully, hands clasped behind him as if deep in thought. Nothing. When he came to the ladder that led down to the cargo area, he descended without hesitation. It was even darker there, a place of deep shadows, with only one lantern glowing several yards away.

There was no warning. Lewis appeared from nowhere, while his hands were still grasping the rungs of the ladder, and caught him off guard. With one practiced motion, the man flung him into the wall with a force that drove the breath from his body, then grabbed him by the front of his vest, dragged him deeper into the darkness, and slammed him against the wall again.

Before he could move, Lewis was on him, crushing him against the bulkhead, a thick forearm across his neck to cut off his air and a knee between his legs to immobilize him. He began to struggle. He knew it was useless—Lewis was more than half a head taller and outweighed him by a good three stone—but he couldn't help himself. Lewis laughed, and pressed harder until Todd finally went still.

"Mr. Todd." There was a flash of white teeth in the gloom. "I didn't think I'd get my chance at _you_ this quick."

"Let me go." He was disgusted to hear that his voice was unsteady.

"Not just yet. Not 'til I've had a little fun with you." He ground his pelvis against Todd's hip, as if to be sure that Todd could feel his erection and realize how well endowed he was.

Todd hissed and swore at himself. This was not the way he had planned for the encounter to go. This was bringing back far too many memories—memories that would cripple him and leave him helpless at Lewis' hands if he couldn't bring them under control. He closed his eyes briefly and focused on the belaying pin digging reassuringly into the small of his back—reminded himself that it was larger and much harder than the weapon Lewis wielded.

"Let me go."

Lewis ignored him. "I like them small, like you. And I like it when they fight, 'cause I _always_ win."

"I'll call for help."

"Go ahead. Waste your breath." A large hand was between them now, working its way downward. "Nobody's going to come. They all know what it means when somebody screams down here. They're all afraid of me." He pressed his lips against Todd's ear. "I want you to scream when I'm in you. I like knowing I'm hurting you. That nobody's ever done this to you before."

If Todd had had it in him to laugh at that moment, he might have laughed at that.

"You got a pretty little ass, Mr. Todd. I'm going to enjoy fucking you. And if you ask me nicely, I might be good to you and use the oil. The first time, anyway."

It was becoming almost impossible to hold himself motionless. Lewis' hand was on him, groping him in a way that made his stomach churn. He felt a tongue flicking out to moisten his earlobe, felt teeth nip at the flesh.

"And no matter _what_ I do to you, you won't ever tell anybody. They never do." With one last painful squeeze, Lewis straightened, releasing him. "Now get back there and open your pants and bend over that crate."

As he spoke, Lewis jerked his head toward the side, looking away for a heartbeat. It was enough. Todd brought his right arm up and slammed his fist into the side of Lewis' head, ducking, almost escaping.

"Bastard." 

Lewis grabbed his arm before he could strike again, spun him, and slammed him face-first into a stack of crates. He barely felt the pain as Lewis pulled him up and viciously backhanded him, sending him to the floor. It didn't matter. He was free now, not a helpless victim.

His hand was behind his back, fingers closing around the iron handle, when a boot in his ribs sent him rolling. He held on to the weapon, grunting as Lewis connected again, then again, and when Lewis stopped and bent over him, he pulled it free.

"I'm going to make you bleed." Lewis had him by the throat, hauling him to his feet, shaking him, then turning to shove him back into the darkness.

Todd's arm came up again, and the metal connected with the side of his attacker's head. Lewis staggered, and let him go. Todd wrapped both hands around the handle and struck again, with all the strength he could muster.

Lewis went down without a sound.

Half a heartbeat later, Todd's knees buckled and he went down too, sprawling beside Lewis' motionless form. He stayed there, chest heaving, fighting against the sobs that wanted to tear themselves out of his throat, until he was able to drive enough of the phantoms away.

The job was only half done. Todd pushed himself to his hands and knees, gasping as splinters of pain shot through his body. Cautiously, he touched his ribs, then his face, and flinched. He needed to finish this, and finish it quickly, while he was still able, before the shock wore off and he began to hurt in earnest.

He pressed his fingers to Lewis' throat, feeling for a pulse, almost glad to find one. "I want you to live," he growled, shifting backwards, getting a better grip on the belaying pin. "I want you to live and know how it feels to be helpless."

He brought the wood and metal down on Lewis' leg, over and over and over, until he heard the satisfying crunch of bone snapping, then moved higher on the leg and repeated the process. The second break brought Lewis back to consciousness. He turned his head groggily toward Todd, and then he began to scream.

Todd leaned over him, and smiled. "Don't waste your breath, Mr. Lewis. Remember, no one will come when they hear screams from here."

Lewis swore, then threatened, then cried and begged for mercy. Todd ignored him, ignored his own increasing distress, and moved on to the right arm, to the hand that had groped him, had struck him. He was grateful that the bones in the arm were smaller, requiring less effort. He began to quickly, methodically, shatter them, making sure not a single one was left unbroken, from fingertip to shoulder.

Lewis was unconscious again well before he finished and sank back, satisfied. "You'll never hurt anyone else, I'd wager," he murmured.

And then he remembered Lewis' taunting words and searched through the man's pockets until he found the oil Lewis had mentioned. It was not a large bottle, but it would do, and Todd knew he would be grateful to have it later, when Anthony...

He shuddered and tucked it into his own vest pocket and refused to allow himself to complete the thought.

He was almost finished. Somehow he managed to stand and grab the other man's feet, so that he could drag Lewis toward the bottom of the ladder leading to the deck above. The effort stole his breath, and spots of darkness danced before his eyes, but he persisted until he could drop Lewis where someone would find him—eventually—and leave him there. Then he set his hands back upon the rungs of the ladder and began to climb.

Slowly pulling himself up to the next level, and then the next, was agony. He was grateful when he felt the cold night air on his face and knew he had reached his goal. With a quick glance around to make sure the deck was deserted, he staggered to the rail, and threw his weapon into the ocean.

And then he leaned over the side and heaved, again and again, until his stomach was empty and his knees gave way and sent him to the deck.

He had no idea how much time passed, how long he lay there insensible, before he came back to himself. Sinking his teeth into his already bleeding lip, he forced himself to a sitting position and leaned against the side of the ship, shaking with pain and exhaustion and the cold...and memory.

He couldn't stay there. Someone would come, find him, realize what he'd done. Hoping it would help, he pressed his arm to his side as he gained his feet, then leaned against the rail once more, until he felt he could move.

As he stumbled back toward his room, he tried to think of what he should do next. The physical damage was too much to hide. His face was on fire; he didn't want to imagine what he would see in the mirror, should he look. And his side... It hurt too much at that moment for him to decide if there were broken ribs.

Todd knew he could avoid everyone else on the ship—_had_ avoided them—but not Anthony. He could lock the door, keep the boy away for perhaps a day or two, but eventually Anthony would see him. Would know he'd had an encounter with Lewis. Would even realize what he'd done to Lewis.

He managed to descend the ladder, then stood there, swaying, shocked to realize that he didn't want Anthony to know what he'd done. That he'd been the one to hurt Lewis, yes; that was unavoidable. But he had to find the words to make the boy think he'd been a fool, that the encounter had been an accident, that however much Lewis deserved what had happened, he had struck out only to defend himself and escape.

As he reached for the door to the cabin, he realized that he very much did not want the boy—or anyone—to know that he'd set out deliberately to find and to cripple Lewis. To make himself shark bait.


	8. Chapter 7

Thank you so much, all you lovely people who have said such kind things to me about this story! It makes me happy to think that there are folks who are enjoying reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it (most of the time). I hope I don't lose any of you, because we're about to take a slightly darker turn at the end of this part...

After the short flashback/POV change/interruption story, here we are back on the main track. These characters don't belong to me, and I probably owe both of them a number of apologies. No money changing hands, except from me to the various theaters around Knoxville who've provided me with my Sweeney-fixes. Spoilers for basic concepts of play/movie. And, of course, m/m sex, one bit of which actually made _me_ uncomfortable, but I let it go as is, because there _is_ a reason for it. (Yes, folks, I _can_ still be embarrassed sometimes.) Thank you to Miss Becky for the beta and for the incredible friendship.

_Compensation_  
by Melody Wilde

_Seven_

Anthony waited until dark, and beyond, before he dared to slip quietly down to Todd's room and scratch hesitantly on the door. Todd opened it instantly, waving a hand to invite Anthony in, gazing about the corridor behind to be sure he had not been followed, then turning the key to lock the door behind him.

"Mr. Todd, I'm sorry about what happened today. I didn't mean to embarrass you. It won't happen again, I swear."

Todd shook his head dismissively. "It's _your_ honor you should be worrying about, not mine. If anyone found out about this, you'd most likely be discharged and disgraced and ruined."

"I didn't know…" His knees gave way and he dropped to sit on the bed.

"No matter. I daresay I'm the only one who noticed." Todd sat beside Anthony and retrieved the bottle of gin.

"Do you think you should? After how sick it made you last night?"

"I won't drink as much tonight. Just...enough."

"Enough for what?"

But Todd had already tilted the bottle up and was taking deep gulps of it, not as if he were drinking for enjoyment, but of necessity. When he set it aside, his eyes were watery, and he coughed.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Fine." He was sitting motionless, staring ahead, clenching and unclenching his hands, one around the other. At last he said, "What shall I do for you tonight?"

"I was wondering...I'd like to...if you would let me..."

"Spit it out, boy, before it chokes you," Todd snapped irritably. "What do you want me to do?"

"Kiss me. I want you to kiss me."

Todd looked at him then, the dark eyes going wider with surprise. "Kiss you?"

"Yes sir."

"It's been a very long time since I kissed anyone, Anthony," Todd said slowly. "I dare say I've forgotten how. It's not one of the things I was asked to do."

"I'm asking. You said you'd do anything."

"Yes."

"That's what I want."

Todd took a deep breath, then leaned forward and pressed his lips briefly to Anthony's. Anthony felt his face go hot again.

"Mr. Todd, I know I'm...I don't know about...and that was my first kiss, but it seemed..."

"Not all you'd imagined."

"No sir. I thought it would be more...more," he said miserably.

"Let me try again, then. But first..."

Todd reached up to lower the lamp, and Anthony caught his breath at the sight of his profile in the fading light, the wild, loose hair surrounding his intent face almost like a halo.

"You are so beautiful," Anthony breathed.

"No. Not anymore." Before Anthony could protest, he went on, "Now lie down, and let me see what I can remember."

He changed position as Anthony settled back against the blankets, then dropped to his knees beside the bed and leaned forward until their faces almost touched. "Close your eyes."

Anthony obeyed, startled when he felt Todd's mouth upon his. Todd's lips were relaxed now, as they had not been before, moving slowly, as if he were learning the way as much as Anthony.

"Hold me, please?" Anthony breathed, almost without breaking the contact.

Todd's arm slid under his shoulders, lifting him into the kiss. He felt those beautiful lips part, felt a tonguetip glide across his lower lip, and gasped at the sensation. And then the tongue was slipping into his mouth in a tentative exploration, and he moaned.

When Todd broke away for a moment, Anthony made an involuntary sound of protest, but Todd was only shifting so that his free hand could slide down to the buttons of Anthony's trousers, undoing them and moving inside. And then Todd returned to the kiss.

Anthony felt as if he were drowning in sensation, hardly able to breathe, unable to think at all, only feel. And then Todd's hand closed around him and he jerked his mouth free to gasp, "Please, oh please."

Todd's tongue began to slide in and out, withdrawing, then pushing forward. Anthony's hands came up and tangled in Todd's lush hair, holding him, as he whimpered against Todd's mouth. The movements of Todd's tongue changed, the thrusting movements matching the movements of his hand, in, out, up, down, until Anthony shook with pleasure and would have screamed if he could.

Todd held him until he stopped shaking, then straightened. Anthony looked over at him and whispered, "I love you," before he could think to censor the words.

"No. Don't confuse _this_ with love, boy." There was no arguing with that tone, with the expression on Todd's face, but Anthony persisted.

"I'm not. I _do_ love you. And I think you must care for me or you would not—"

"No." His head was bent, his attention focused on the fold of the blanket. "I _like_ you well enough, as well as I can like anyone or anything now, but what I do for you is... I told you, son. It's the only way I have to repay you."

"Couldn't you learn? To love me, I mean?" he whispered, almost afraid to utter the words.

"Anthony..." It was obvious that Todd was struggling with the words, struggling with…something. "What I've given you is _all_ I can give you. There's no love left in me. It's all been beaten out of me. Taken away from me. Don't ask for more than I'm able to give. Please. Don't imagine that you have feelings for me."

Anthony wanted to protest that what he felt _was_ love and that he believed he could teach Todd to love again, but there was something so bleak—so devastated—in Todd's expression that he kept his silence. He forced himself to nod in agreement and murmur, "All right."

"Good." Todd settled back to the floor and leaned against the side of the bunk, then reached for the bottle again.

"Sir?"

"I'm only having a bit."

"Why have you started drinking that?"

"Courage." The word was so quiet that Anthony thought he must have misheard.

"Courage?" When Todd did not reply, he went on, "Why would you need courage, Mr. Todd? It's only the two of us here. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"You're right, of course." Todd set the bottle down unopened and let his head slump forward. "What, indeed?"

Tentatively, Anthony reached out to brush a hand across the wild hair. Todd flinched at the touch, then held himself motionless with a visible effort.

"Mr. Todd, sir, what's wrong?"

"I've been seasick," he said abruptly.

"Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have asked you to—"

"That's_exactly_ why, boy," he interrupted. "I'm not going to break my promise to you. No matter what."

Anthony lay there, staring at the side of Todd's face, watching the muscles of jaw and neck move, wishing he were older, more experienced in the ways of the world, more of whatever it would take to make Todd feel the way he did.

"I should clean you before your clothing is ruined." Todd was moving again, back onto his knees, wetting one of the handkerchiefs Anthony had given him. "If you'll lower your trousers..."

Anthony hastened to comply, blushing at the mess he had made. Todd worked quickly, efficiently, concentrating first on the fortunately small area of material that had been splattered, and then on Anthony. Todd's features were taut with concentration as he lifted and moved and wiped clean. And then his hand shook against Anthony's stomach, and his movements faltered to a halt.

"I'm sorry, sir." Anthony was shamed to realize that he had gone hard again. "It's just...you were touching me and..."

"No. It's quite all right, boy. It's to be expected, at your age." Todd carefully finished wiping him clean, then lay the cloth aside. Resting his elbows on the edge of the bed beside Anthony's hips, he leaned forward, his throat working as he swallowed hard once, then again, then a third time.

"You don't have to, sir," Anthony said quickly.

"Yes. I do."

Before Anthony could even attempt to correct him, Todd ducked his head into position and took Anthony in one swift movement. Anthony's back arched involuntarily against the incredible sensation. Without breaking the contact, without stopping for a heartbeat, Todd placed a hand on his stomach to hold him still.

Anthony had no sense of the time passing. It went on and on, forever, and it ended in the inevitable manner far too soon. Anthony bucked upward against the restraining hand, mindless, thoughtless, needing to be as deep as he possibly could at that final moment. Todd stayed with him until the aftershocks had ceased, then carefully opened his mouth and lifted his head away.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're quite welcome, I'm sure." Todd pushed himself up to sit on the end of the bunk, and let his head fall back against the wall.

"Sir?"

"Son..." Todd hesitated, then said, "I'm feeling a little...unwell. If you wouldn't mind..."

"Not at all, sir. I'll go, and let you rest." He scrambled to his feet and did up the buttons on his trousers, then bent to place a kiss upon Todd's forehead. "Good night, Mr. Todd."

He was almost out the door when he heard Todd call after him, "Tomorrow night."

"Yes sir."

o-o-o-o-o

Dr. McGuire waved Anthony over late in the afternoon. "Mr. Hope, I wonder if you'd give this to Mr. Todd when you take his supper." He held out something wrapped in a piece of canvas. When Anthony hesitated, he said, "Is something wrong?"

"I haven't been...I thought..." He swallowed. "Just this week, Mr. Todd told me that he'd be taking his meals in the galley from now on."

"If he has been, none of us have seen him. Check on it, will you, Mr. Hope?"

"Yes sir."

"And don't forget to give him this. He came by early this morning and said the gin wasn't working anymore, so I've fetched something a bit stronger for him. Tell him he needs to eat, though, not just drink."

"Yes sir."

o-o-o-o-o

Todd was leaning back on the bed, staring sightlessly at a book held open on his lap, when Anthony knocked, then entered. "Mr. Todd, sir?"

Todd put the book aside and straightened. "I didn't expect you so early."

"I came by to give you this. It's from the doctor." He held out the package, and Todd took it, with a sigh of relief. "Sir, why haven't you been eating?"

"Who said I haven't?" Todd was very interested in undoing the piece of twine around the cloth.

"Dr. McGuire said you should eat, not just drink."

"He did, did he?" The knot seemed to be proving difficult for him.

"Do you want me to bring you some food?"

"No."

"But you _will_ go to the galley for supper and try to eat something?"

"Of course I will."

"I have to stand watch for the first part of the night. Should I come back when I'm finished?"

"Yes."

"It may be late."

"I'll wait."

"When I come back, if you're not feeling well, perhaps we could just sit and talk instead of…anything else."

The string snapped. Todd looked up, his expression unreadable. "Whatever you want," he said quietly.

"Yes sir."

o-o-o-o-o

It was very late, three hours past midnight, when Anthony crept back down to the small room. He tapped softly, then a bit louder, then dared to push the door open to peer inside, before entering the room.

Todd lay curled up on the bunk, on his side, a bottle of rum clutched to his chest. Anthony slid it free and held it up to the light, shocked to see that almost half of it was gone.

"Mr. Todd?"

Todd made a sound—sleepy? drunken?—and turned his head toward Anthony's voice, his brow furrowing.

"Let me help you." He leaned over and tried to straighten Todd's legs, to ease him into a more comfortable position.

Todd made another sound, and then sat up abruptly, eyes open now, wide with fear. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sleep. Don't…don't…"

"Sir?"

But Todd was lost in some awful dream, neither seeing nor hearing him. "Please. I'll take care of you…I swear...just let me…"

His hands were working blindly at the front of Anthony's trousers, struggling to loosen them. Anthony found himself able only to stand there, shocked, as Todd pushed them away and caught him, anxiously taking the limp flesh into his mouth and beginning to work almost frantically with tongue and lips and fingers.

"Mr. Todd,_sir_!"

Anthony reached out to push Todd away, not wanting to be part of this drink-induced nightmare, but his body betrayed him. Todd made a noise of relief in the back of his throat as he felt Anthony go hard.

Whatever demon had Todd in its grip, it did not diminish his skills. He effortlessly brought Anthony erect, and to a shuddering completion. Then he drew the back of a hand across his mouth and quietly toppled sideways to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Terrified, Anthony fumbled his clothing into place and bent to lift Todd's limp body onto the bed. Todd made no sound as Anthony gently urged him onto his side, facing the wall, and tucked a blanket around him, but within moments he seemed to have relaxed and fallen into a deep and untroubled sleep.

Anthony stood there for a long time, watching him, trying to make sense of the thing that had just occurred. He very much wanted to stay until the morning, to question Todd, to apologize for his part in this, but somehow he knew with every fiber of his being that it would be wisest if he left now. If Todd never knew this had happened.

Troubled, he slipped away and pulled the door quietly shut behind him, then went to lie sleepless in his own bunk until dawn, thinking.

Bottom of Form


	9. Chapter 8

A huge thank you to everybody who's posted a review and/or added this to their alert list. I'm glad you're enjoying it. Sorry about the not-so-nice ending for the last part and the not-so-nice bits that are coming up. I wish I could say I'm going to give them a happy ending after all this, but this isn't an AU, so we all know how it's going to end.

Mr. Todd and Mr. Hope don't belong to me—and if they did, there _would_ be a happy (and mentally healthy) ending all around. I'm getting no money from this, only lovely kind words, which is just as good. Spoilers for basic concepts of play/movie only. Warnings for m/m sexual situations and nudity. And for this and the next part (and, I'm sure, the one after that), a huge thank you to Miss Becky, for beta-ing, and re-beta-ing, and re-re-beta-ing and for not sending me a virtual smack when I whined and changed things a zillion times, because these have been tough ones to write. You're the best!

_Eight_

"Good morning, Anthony."

Anthony was pleasantly surprised to see Todd slide onto the bench beside him, a bowl in one hand and a cup in the other. He tried to examine Todd's face, without seeming to do so. The dark eyes were narrowed, as if the light hurt them, and there was a tightness about the corners of his mouth, but otherwise he seemed far better than Anthony would have expected.

"And good morning to you, sir. I'm glad you've come to join us."

"I thought perhaps Dr. McGuire was right. That missing a meal or two and drinking do not go well together."

Anthony made a non-committal sound and continued to watch out of the corner of his eye. Todd lifted the spoon, wrinkled his nose, and then began to eat—slowly, and without enthusiasm, but still, eating.

"I had a terrible dream last night," he said abruptly, shifting to turn his gaze on Anthony.

"Really, sir?" Anthony tilted his head, setting his features into an expression of innocent concern. He had practiced that look—and what he meant to say—for the last hour that he had spent in his bunk that morning, fearing that if he were not prepared, he might too easily give something away. "Then I wish I had gone by to see you after my shift ended. I might have been able to wake you from it."

"You didn't come by, you say?"

"No sir. It was far too late when I was free."

"I thought perhaps you had. The dream seemed very…real. And you played a part in it."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He refused to look away, refused to drop his eyes, knowing that would be an admission of guilt. "I hope I haven't done anything to cause you to—"

"No." Todd shook his head and turned his attention back to the food. "It was only a dream."

"Yes sir."

They finished the meal in silence, then Todd rose. "I think I'll go stand at the rail for a while and see if the cool air can clear my mind a bit."

"If you plan to be there long, you might want to fetch your coat, sir. The wind is biting today."

"Of course."

"If there's anything I can do..."

"No. Thank you. I'll see you tonight."

Anthony did not fully relax until Todd was out of sight and he knew his deception had been successful.

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony found himself far too busy to worry about anything for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon. It was close to five o'clock before he and his mates were finally finished, and he could stretch and begin to think about supper.

"Your friend Mr. Todd must be damn near frozen by now."

"What?" Anthony spun.

Cooper was standing beside him, blowing on his hands to warm them. He jerked his head upwards, toward the prow of the boat. "I think he's been up there all day—ever' time I went by, anyways—just starin' out at the water. I spoke to 'im once, asked him if he didn't want a coat or somethin', but he acted like he didn't hear me. I hope he got below 'fore it started to rain."

"Oh God." Anthony found himself running, ducking around anyone or anything in his way, heading for Todd's room.

It was empty. And the jacket was hanging from the peg.

"Oh God."

He scrambled up the ladder, flinging an arm up to try to shield himself from the rain, and dashed toward the front of the boat, more than half afraid he would find it deserted, would find that Todd had...

His knees went weak when he saw the familiar figure, standing motionless, elbows propped upon the rail, hands clasped in front of him, heedless of the water that had soaked his clothing and plastered his hair to his face. Anthony moved slowly toward him, afraid of startling him, and stopped by his side.

"Sir?"

There was something alarming in the way Todd was gazing off into the growing darkness—something vacant and hollow in his face, as if he were totally unaware of where he was and what he was doing. Anthony took a deep breath and dared to lay a hand on Todd's shoulder.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" Todd's voice was flat, barely audible.

Not knowing what to say—how to bring him back from wherever his mind had fled—Anthony tugged gently at his sleeve and murmured, "It's almost time for supper, sir. Would you join me?"

"Of course."

Todd straightened and turned toward Anthony, and then a tremor ran through his entire body and his eyes seemed to clear ever so slightly. "Anthony?"

"Yes sir." He began to lead Todd toward the back of the ship, to the ladder that went down closest to his cabin.

"What's..."

"Let's get below, sir, and get both of us dry, and then we'll talk." Anthony slid an arm around the lean body, guiding him across the deck, down, and through the door to the room. He reached up quickly to light the lantern, then turned his attention back to Todd.

"Mr. Todd, can you get out of your wet things and wrap yourself in one of your blankets?"

He nodded, but made no move to do so.

"Mr. Todd?"

"Yes."

"I'm going for more blankets and dry clothing. You need to undress."

"Of course." Todd lifted his hands and began to fumble with the buttons of his vest, his fingers slipping awkwardly away.

"May I, sir?" Without waiting for permission, Anthony pushed Todd's hands away, startled at how cold they were, and undid the buttons of both vest and shirt. Todd's head was bowed and he had begun to shiver violently, but he made no further move to disrobe.

"I'm sorry, sir." Anthony reached over to lower the wick until the room was almost dark, then began to quickly strip Todd's clothing away, wrapping a blanket about him when he was half naked and urging him to sit so that the trousers and heavy boots could be removed. He was almost finished when Todd looked up again, with more comprehension in his eyes.

"Anthony? Are you here to—"

"I'm here to help you, sir," he interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest of the question. He tucked another blanket around Todd's legs. They, too, were icy.

"Thank you."

"What was wrong, sir? Was it the seasickness?"

Todd's eyelids were drooping. "I've never been seasick in my life," he muttered.

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony carried the words with him as he rushed to his bunk to gather clothing, then for blankets, then to send word of his whereabouts to the First Mate. Todd had lied. He was not suffering from seasickness, but he _was_ suffering, and Anthony swore to himself that he would know the reason before the night was over.

o-o-o-o-o 

Todd had leaned back and seemed to be asleep when he returned. He quickly shed his own clothing and wrapped himself in a blanket, and then turned to find Todd watching him. Despite the fact that his man had intimate knowledge of his body, Todd's steady regard made him flush with embarrassment.

"Sir."

"What happened?"

Anthony perched on the edge of the bunk beside his friend. "I was hoping _you_ could answer that, sir."

"I wanted to stand at the bow for just a bit. Let the air blow away the nightmare. And then...you were at my side. And I was cold and wet."

"Yes sir."

"Anthony..." He looked away. "Am I going mad?"

"I don't think so, Mr. Todd. I believe it is only that you're very troubled about something. I wish you would share it with me, and let me help you." He freed an arm and reached over to let his fingertips brush quickly across Todd's cheek. "Would you like a drink of rum to warm you?"

"I think so, yes."

Anthony retrieved the bottle, uncorked it, and held it out. Todd took several long swallows before handing it back.

"You're very cold."

"Yes."

"You need to change your blanket for a dry one. Sir, may I...may I lie down with you, to help warm you?"

"Just lock the door first." Todd's voice was weary.

Anthony did so, startled when Todd gave a sigh, stood, and let his blankets fall about his feet. He had not seen Todd unclothed since he had cared for the man so many weeks before.

"If you'll...I'll..." Anthony realized he was blushing again, trying not to look at the other man, but _wanting_ to look.

"I know what to do. I've done it often enough." Todd lowered himself to the bunk and stretched out upon it, turning his face to the wall and folding his arms tightly across his chest. Relieved, Anthony dropped his own soaked blanket, shook two of the dry ones across the bed, then joined him, settling against his back and pulling the covers over them.

"Is this all right?" He draped an arm across Todd's side.

"Yes." 

"We'll both be warm soon."

"I dare say we will, before the night is done."

"Sir..." He hesitated.

"Whatever it is you want, Anthony, not just yet. Give me a moment. I know time is running out, but I'm still...so cold."

There was something so unbearably sad—so resigned—in the quiet words that Anthony felt as if his heart would break.

"All I want is to lie here, like this."

Anthony could feel the tension ease out of the thin body pressed against him. "Thank you, son."

"I love you," he whispered. But Todd was already asleep.

o-o-o-o-o

Although he was tired from the work he'd done all day and had gotten no sleep the night before, Anthony found himself unable to follow Todd's example. He was too aware that he was naked, that his body was pressed tightly against Todd's naked back, that the curve of Todd's buttocks were pressed against...

He forced himself to think of something else, anything but the fact that he was touching Todd, in a way that he had wanted to touch him for what seemed a very long time. He just hadn't known that he wanted it—how much he wanted it—until Todd had said...

His mind was straying again. He tried to rein in his thoughts, turn them to other things, force them to think about the ports that the _Bountiful_ had visited on this voyage, the wonders he had seen, the people he had met. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered now was...

The only thing that mattered now was that he enjoy his time with Todd as best he could, for he knew it would end when they reached London. He wondered if he would ever see Todd again after they made port. He wondered if he could bear it if he did not.

Perhaps, if he could help Todd—learn what troubled him, find a solution—then Todd would be happier. Smile. Learn to care for him as he wished so desperately.

He began trying to recall everything Todd had said to him, wondering if there were some clue to Todd's distress somewhere in his words. After a time, he frowned, remembering something Todd had said to him that first night, not a clue, but certainly a...curiosity.

Todd's breathing had changed, gone lighter, and the muscles beneath Anthony's arm were tensing. "Sir? Are you awake?"

"Yes."

"How do you feel?"

"Warm. Rested." He paused, then added softly, "Ready."

"Ready?"

"For whatever you want me to do for you tonight."

Anthony bit the inside of his jaw in a futile attempt to keep his traitorous body from responding to the words.

"Well?"

"Actually, sir..." He tried to move his hips back a bit, break the contact. "There's something I'd like to ask you, if I may."

"All right."

"That night...the first night you said you would..." He faltered.

"Go on."

"You asked what I wanted of you. Your hands or your mouth or...or your body."

"Yes."

"I don't understand. You've...used your...and… I don't know what you meant by the last."

Todd's shoulders lifted, then settled, as if he were taking a deep breath. "Do you want me to tell you?"

"I'm not sure."

Todd turned his head slightly toward Anthony and whispered a few words.

Anthony gasped. "Sir, that is impossible."

"It's entirely possible."

"But... You cannot mean a man would…that _you_ would...would allow me to...to..."

"If that's what you wish to do."

"But...wouldn't it be...painful? For you, I mean."

Even in the gloom, Anthony could see the shadow that flickered across Todd's face, see the dark eyes close for half a second before he said quietly, "It can be, if you are rough or careless or _want_ to hurt me."

"Who would _want_ to hurt another man that way?" And then realization struck him. "That's what Lewis wanted to do to you. What he did to Cooper...and to the others."

"Yes."

"Oh God." He felt sick, felt tears welling up behind his eyes.

"Mr. Lewis was a cruel man, and I'm sorry for the things he did to your friends. But he didn't hurt me. Not like that, anyway."

"But others have." It wasn't a question. He remembered standing on the deck after Todd had dispatched Lewis, trying to apologize, Todd's words, which he had not fully understood until now—"I was able to fight _him_ off."

"Yes."

"Then how could you think even for a moment that I would hurt you like that?"

"_You_ wouldn't hurt me. If you want to..." Todd's words seemed to catch in his throat for a moment. "All you have to do is ask."

"Sir..." Images were crowding Anthony's mind, images of being that close to Todd, of being allowed to touch him in all the ways he wanted to and learn Todd's body as Todd had learned his, of joining with him in a way that surely would bind them together forever. Still, he could not force himself to utter the words.

"Let me up for a moment."

Anthony sat up, allowing Todd to do the same. Todd reached for the rum, turning the bottle up for a moment, then set it aside and said, "I have oil. Not much, but it should be enough."

"Oil?"

"To ease the way, son." Todd found his discarded vest and reached into the pocket, taking out another, much smaller, bottle. "Be careful with it. I took it from Lewis, so that's all there is." He placed the bottle in Anthony's hand, and made a quick gesture toward Anthony's erection. "Coat yourself with it. And then pour some on me."

"I don't... On...you?"

"Where you mean to put yourself." Todd's hands clasped together for a moment, then separated. "And Anthony, please...please go slowly."

This wasn't right. Yes, he wanted it; there was no denying that he wanted it. But it was wrong. Wrong because any man could hear that Todd's voice was sick with fear—could see the fear in the way Todd's body was shaking as he went back onto his side, hips raised, his face turned to the wall and pressing against the thin pillow.

Anthony sat there, unmoving, the bottle grasped tightly in his hand until Todd barked, "For God's sake, get on with it, boy!"

He stretched out his hand and let it rest lightly on Todd's hip, feeling the muscles spasm at his touch. Tears began to slide down his cheeks. "Sir...I don't think that I _can_."

Todd was still for a long moment, then rolled onto his back. "Don't, Anthony," he murmured. "It's going to be all right."

"No. It's not."

And they both knew that Anthony had spoken the truth.


	10. Chapter 9

First, thanks again to everyone who's commented on this story; I'm glad you're enjoying it. Second, I have to warn you that this has some really not so nice moments. And third…I'll get to the third at the end of this part.

The usual disclaimers: They're not mine, I'm not making money, I owe everybody involved at least one apology, etc. Spoilers for basic concepts of play/movie only. Warnings for unpleasantness, sexual situations, and nudity. Thanks as always to Miss Becky, who held my hand through the last few parts and gave me excellent feedback.

o-o-o-o-o

_Nine_

After a time, Todd asked quietly, "Why did you stop? Why didn't you go on—do what you wanted?"

Anthony shook his head. "Because it would've made me no better than any other man who's used you." 

Todd sighed. "No, son. You're wrong. The difference is that this time I was willing."

"Were you?"

Todd's hesitation before he said, "Of course," was all the answer Anthony needed.

"You seemed to be afraid."

A muscle twitched at the corner of Todd's mouth. "I was...uneasy, perhaps, but I was willing. I still am."

"Why?" When Todd didn't answer, he forged on, desperate to know the reason. "Why would you let me do something like that—_encourage_ me to do something like that—when it frightens you?"

"Anthony, I owe you so much that—"

"That's your answer?" he interrupted. "Because you think you _owe_ it to me?"

"But I do."

Anthony shook his head in disbelief. "Mr. Todd, I've told you again and again that you owe me nothing. _Nothing._ And even if you _did_, why did you think you should use your _body_ to repay me, as if you were a...a common whore?"

"Because it's all I know," he snapped, hands clenching into fists. Then he looked away and went on in a softer tone. "It's all I've known for the past fifteen years. I've tried to explain it to you, from the beginning..."

_"Everything I own in this world has been a gift from you. My body is the only thing that is my own. It's all I have to give you in return for all you've given me."_

Something connected in Anthony's brain, and everything became horribly, hideously, _unbearably_ clear.

_"I swore I'd repay you when I could."_

"Tell me what I can do for you, Anthony. I'll do anything you ask."

The look on Todd's face, in his eyes, every time he'd done the things that Anthony had wanted.

_"Why have you started drinking that?"_

"Courage." 

The numbing liquor that Todd had to drink before he could bring himself to touch Anthony with his hands or mouth.

_The sound of someone retching violently, someone very close._

"I've been seasick."

"I've never been seasick in my life,"

The sickness that had begun the same night he'd offered himself. The sickness that he had lied about.

_"Please. I'll take care of you…I swear...just let me…"_

The nightmare that Anthony now realized had been brought on by the things Todd had done in his attempt to discharge his debt, things which must have brought back memories of being _forced_ to do those same things while imprisoned.

_"__**This**__ is all I have to give you."_

"You must understand that what passes between us is not love. It is lust. It is friendship. It is...compensation."

"Don't confuse _**this**__ with love, boy."_

"What I've given you is all I can give you. There's no love left in me. It's all been beaten out of me. Taken away from me. Don't ask for more than I'm able to give." 

At last, all the pieces of the puzzle fit together. And Anthony very much did not want the solution that he saw to be the correct one.

"Mr. Todd, all of this...the things you've done...the things I wanted...you haven't wanted to do any of them, have you?"

Again, Todd's silence gave him the answer.

"Oh God." He should have known. He should have realized. Todd _had_ tried to tell him, again and again, but he hadn't _wanted_ to know. He'd been caught up in a dream of Todd returning his love and...and what? Living together happily ever after, like some childish fairy tale?

Anthony suddenly felt very young, and utterly foolish.

He dropped his face into his hands. "We haven't really shared anything, have we? Nothing but..." He sought for the word Todd had used, and spat it out. "_Compensation_." 

"I'd like to think we've shared friendship."

"Have we? Are you really my friend, or do you just _pretend_ to be because you think you owe it to me?"

Todd was sitting up now, lifting a hand as if to touch Anthony. "Son, please try to understand..."

"Don't!" Anthony jerked away, flinging himself to the floor, out of Todd's reach. The wood was cold, but he barely felt it, barely even realized that he was naked. There were too many emotions fighting for precedence—guilt, betrayal, anger, loss, confusion, embarrassment. And he couldn't even console himself with the thought that Todd had lied to him. _He_ was the one who had lied, lied to himself, seeing a meaning that did not exist in every smile, every gesture of friendship, every touch that had given him so much pleasure.

He reached for the bottle of rum and shook it, glad that it was not completely empty.

"Drink it, boy. I daresay right now you need it more than I do."

He threw the stopper aside and drank, feeling the unfamiliar burn of the rum as it went down from his throat through his chest and to his stomach. He coughed and then drank again. By the fifth—or perhaps the sixth—gulp, he felt able to look at Todd.

"I hate you."

Todd flinched at that. His head lowered, but not before Anthony saw a flash of regret on his features. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted to do that."

Anthony glared at him and raised the bottle again.

"Be careful with that, son. If you're not used to drinking, it'll go straight to your head and you'll be sick later."

Todd's quiet words made him even more furious. Defiantly, he took several more swallows. "What do _you_ care?"

"Anthony... I care. Don't do yourself harm because you're angry with me."

"Who _should_ I hurt then? _You_?"

"Why not?"

"I think I've done enough to you already."

Todd hesitated, then ran his hand along the covers, retrieving the oil that had dropped unheeded at some point, and held it out. "Take it."

"Why?"

"Because you may _hate_ me, but I think you still _want_ me."

He couldn't deny that. Nothing had changed there.

"You're so angry." Todd's voice quivered, but he went on. "It might help you if you took me and were not...gentle."

"You mean _deliberately_ hurt you?"

"Hurting me is something that seems to have brought pleasure to a number of other men. It might do the same for you. Use this and do what you want to me. Or…" His breath caught, and he was obviously struggling for control. "Or _don't_ use it and hurt me even more."

Anthony took the bottle, rolled it between his palms, and then stood and reached over to raise the light, so that he could see Todd's face. Todd was holding himself very still now, face impassive, hands resting on his knees, his whitened knuckles and the rapid rise and fall of his chest the only outward sign of distress.

And perhaps it was the disappointment and hurt, and perhaps it was the liquor clouding his brain, but suddenly Anthony _did_ want to hurt Todd, make Todd hurt as much as _he_ was hurting. That thought—and his knowledge that, for all his brave words, Todd was _very_ much afraid—made him go hard.

"Turn over."

A distant part of his brain was shocked at how harshly he'd spoken, and at how quickly Todd obeyed, immediately turning away and shifting into his earlier position.

"You understand what to do?"

"Yes." 

"If you want me to move in any way, lift myself, or push back against you...if you want me to be quiet...if you want me to scream...I'll do whatever you ask."

Anthony seated himself back on the edge of the bed, opened the small bottle and poured some of the contents into his hand. Closing his fingers around his erection, he coated it liberally, then reached for Todd.

And froze.

The pitiless light was falling upon Todd's naked back, throwing every scar there, no matter how faint, into sharp relief. And there were so many more than he had ever imagined.

Anthony had seen them before, of course, during the time he had cared for Todd, but he had kept the light low in those early days and tried _not_ to look, not to invade Todd's privacy. He had never seen them as clearly as he did now. He leaned forward and placed his fingertips on the back of Todd's neck, then began to trace the deepest marks downward, one by one, learning the patterns they made.

So _many_ scars. So much damage. So much pain.

They didn't stop, and they weren't just on his back. They continued on, moving downward. Even the backs of Todd's legs were marked with the ugly stripes.

Todd made no sound when Anthony's exploring fingers reached his buttocks, but Anthony felt the muscles go taut with anticipation—with dread—beneath his touch.

"Turn on your back."

"Please son, don't take me like that." Todd's voice broke. "Don't make me look at you while you use me."

"Turn on your back," he repeated.

After a moment, Todd rolled onto his back, letting his arms drop to his sides and his legs fall open. He sank his teeth into his lower lip and the hands upon the covers were shaking, but he held himself motionless as Anthony began to examine the front of his body.

Anthony had never noticed these scars before, because the room had been so dimly lit and they were not as vivid. There were not quite as many as on his back, and they were not as deep, but they were still dreadful to look at. They, also, did not stop, but crossed Todd's stomach and his thighs, a few even disturbingly close to his genitals.

Anthony ran his palm across the uneven flesh, feeling the marks of pain and shame and degradation, and wondered how Todd had managed to survive it.

There were crude initials carved into Todd's shoulder, an E, and an M, with another scar crossing it, as if a line had been drawn through them. "Who did this to you?"

"One of the other prisoners."

"Why?"

"Because he could."

They were the same words Todd had used when asked why Lewis had beaten him. "Did he rape you?"

"Yes."

"More than once."

"Yes."

"Why did you let him?"

"_Let_ him?" Anger flashed, bright and vicious, across Todd's face. His lips curled into a snarl. "Do you think I had a _choice_?"

"You fought off Lewis."

"Because there was _only_ Lewis, and I was..." Todd caught himself, pushed his anger away, quieted his tone, and went submissive again. "Things were different there. Evan Martin was…unstoppable. Bigger. Stronger. He'd been there a long time, and the guards liked him, so they let him do what he wanted."

"And he wanted you?"

"Yes. I caught his attention because I was still...fresh. Still somewhat beautiful. So he claimed me. Cut me and marked me as his own so no one else would touch me until he was through with me…or unless he allowed it. And he _did_ allow it. He was not a kind or a careful man." 

"And the line? What's that for?"

"That was to show that he was tired of me. That I no longer belonged to him. That I was fair game for anyone else who wanted me."

"And they did."

"Yes." There were ghosts in the huge, dark pools of Todd's eyes. He made a ragged sound deep in his throat and moaned, "Please, Anthony, if you're going to fuck me, do it now before I lose my nerve."

Anthony felt as if something shattered in his heart at the piteous words. He folded forward, pressing his face against Todd's chest, feeling the scars against his cheek, and began to sob, hot tears and incoherent words rushing out of him. "I'm sorry. I won't. I can't...I can't do that to you. I'm sorry I thought...sorry I made _you_ think...I could. I love you."

"Anthony."

"I know you don't love me...can't love me...but it doesn't change anything. I love you, and I won't do anything else to hurt you, and I'm so sorry."

He felt Todd's hand on the back of his head, awkwardly stroking his hair, heard Todd's soft, "I'm sorry too, son. I wish I could be what you want. I truly do."

At last, when he had no more tears in him, Anthony fell silent. He lifted his head, and Todd's fingers slid away from his hair and down his throat. The knowledge that this was the closest thing to a real caress he had ever received from Todd almost made him weep again.

He sat up and pressed his fingers to his swollen eyes. Todd pulled his hand back and let it drop onto his stomach.

"What now?"

"I don't know." Anthony pulled one of the damp blankets from the floor and wiped the oil from his body, sickened that he had considered using it—hurting Todd—for even a moment.

"I could still do _something_ for you, if not that."

"No."

"Even if I swore to you that I _do_ want to—"

"No."

"If I told you that it isn't repaying a debt anymore? That I care for you and—"

"No." Anthony turned his head, a different thought coming to him. "But…would you…" He stopped.

"Anything you want."

"Would you let _me_ do something for _you_?"

Todd's face went shuttered. He shook his head once, sharply, and looked away. "Anything but that."

"Please."

"I can't."

"But you've given me so much pleasure. I want to give it back to you."

"I _can't_," he snapped. "I can't stand to be touched."

"I don't understand."

"I can't stand to be touched _there_."

"But what man wouldn't enjoy..." His voice trailed away at the expression on Todd's face.

"A man who has been taught—_trained_—that it was not his place to enjoy himself when he serviced others," he said bitterly. He pushed himself up, drawing the blanket protectively around him as he did so. "I rarely became aroused, but if I did, they were quick to...discourage me."

"Discourage you?"

Todd sighed and shook his head. "They hurt me, Anthony. They... No matter. It didn't take long for my body to learn its lesson."

"But now...you're free of them..."

"Physically, yes, but here..." Todd touched the side of his head. "I'll never be free. They had me for fifteen years, son. They've left their mark on me, in every way."

Anthony dared to take one of Todd's hands in his own. "Mr. Todd, what did they do to you in that awful place?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"No sir, I don't, but if you think it would help if you spoke of it...shared your pain with someone...I'll listen."

Todd sat silently for a long moment, and Anthony could feel Todd's fingers flexing convulsively against his palm. Then Todd eyes fixed on something in the distance, something that Anthony could not see. His face went blank and his tone flat and without emotion, and he answered Anthony's question.

The terrible thing—the most horrible thing, even worse than the words coming from Todd's mouth—was the awful certainty that Todd was sharing only a small portion of the cruel things that had been done to him, again and again, for years. Fifteen years.

Anthony had thought his tears were spent. He was wrong.

o-o-o-o-o

The other terrible thing was that Todd himself did not shed a single tear during the whole narrative. He talked until he seemed to have exhausted his supply of words, and then he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Anthony scooted up on the bed, closer to him, and whispered, "Mr. Todd, sir? May I hold you?"

Todd's head dipped once in a nod.

Anthony wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Todd slid, almost boneless, into the embrace. And this time, exhausted and half-drunk with liquor and emotion, Anthony slept.

o-o-o-o-o

o-o-o-o-o

Third thing. This was to have been the next-to-last part of the story. Part 10 (my 10, ff's 11) would have wrapped things up and ended where the movie started, with Anthony standing on the dock with his hand out, watching Todd walk away and vowing to himself he'd never fall in love again (although, of course, we knew he _would_, the minute he saw Johanna). I'm afraid it's not going to end like that now. At this late point in the game, my "muse" decided to listen to several people who said the dreaded words…er…letters, "AU." I never _intended_ for this to be an AU fic. I didn't _want_ to write an AU, to venture into the rewriting-the-real-story territory, because there are too many Sues lurking around there, messing things up. But once the AU idea hit my brain, I couldn't get rid of it. I couldn't stop thinking things like, "If I did _this_, and then _that_, then _this_ would happen", and wondering how things would've gone if it had begun just a bit differently and—let's be honest here—wondering if I _could_ find a way to give Mr. Todd's story a happy ending. IMO, so far, _Compensation_ works as either "real" or "AU", so I'm going to take a deep breath and give in and plunge into the AU waters and see what happens. It may be a while before I get back with the next part, because I want to be sure of where I'm going before I go, but I think it may be an interesting trip.

Thanks again, to everyone. Love you all!


	11. Chapter 10

Two quick things. #1—Acting upon advice from a friend who knows more about these things than I do, I've changed the rating of this to M. (It was pointed out to me that _my_ concept of "too adult" is probably a good distance from ff's. Oops.) I hope this doesn't cause problems for anyone. #2—Thanks again to everybody who's been so kind and encouraging and believe I can do this. I hope I don't disappoint you.

This part _should_ be the end of _Compensation_, but it's not. I'm still not 100 sure how I got sidetracked into AU territory. It may take a while, because I'm really struggling with this, trying to keep the guys in character, trying to figure out what's going to happen next, and trying to find a believable series of events that will lead to a _happier_ ending (which, actually, would be almost anything).

Disclaimers: They aren't mine, even though I think they _should_ be, considering the embarrassing number of tickets in my _Sweeney Todd_ collection. (21, okay? Yes, I am; yes, I should; yes, I do; thank you.) I'm not making money from this. Spoilers for the actual content of the play/movie start here. General story warnings for assorted bits of unpleasantness, some sexual situations, and nudity.

Thanks, as always, to Miss Becky for beat-services above and beyond the call of duty. We _will_ find a shop on Fleet Street that serves meat pies…or at least hamburgers!

o-o-o-o-o

_Part Ten_

Todd was sprawled on the ground, naked, bleeding from a dozen or more raw cuts across his back, his shoulders heaving with ragged sobs of pain. The man standing behind him laughed and tossed the whip aside and began to unbutton his trousers...

"No!"

Anthony jerked awake, trembling, blinking, still caught in the nightmare and not sure where he was until he felt the weight of a body pressed close to his.

"A nightmare," he whispered to himself. "It was only a nightmare."

He desperately wished he didn't know that things like that really _had_ happened to this man. And he didn't want to remember that _he_ had almost committed such an unthinkable act.

He turned his face to let the wildly tangled hair tickle his nose. Todd was still asleep, head on Anthony's shoulder, arm across his chest, totally relaxed in a way Anthony thought he had never seen before. Anthony wished it could always be like this, but he knew it was time—past time—to give up his foolish dreams. He had already had the only life with Todd that he could ever hope for.

He brought his free hand up and began to caress the lean arm, his movements slow and gentle. Todd gave a sigh and, to Anthony's astonishment, snuggled closer to him. Encouraged, he slid his fingers over the damaged shoulder, skimming around the initials carved there, moving downward again.

Todd made a sound Anthony would never have imagined could come from him, a low murmur of contentment. And then the beautiful lips parted and he whispered, "Lucy..."

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony continued to lie there, idly stroking Todd's back, thinking, trying not to think. He could tell the instant Todd woke. The muscles beneath his fingertips went rigid, and he heard Todd's quick, startled intake of breath. He instantly let his hand slip away, freeing his friend of any hint of restraint.

"Mr. Todd?"

Todd relaxed, a very little. "Anthony."

"Yes sir."

Todd straightened, putting as much distance between them as the confines of the narrow bed would allow. "It must be very late. Or very early. Perhaps you should go back to your bunk before someone notices you're gone."

"Not yet." He had no idea what time it was, or how much trouble he would be in for staying here instead of reporting for duty, but he didn't care. "Not until I can find a way to make things right between us again."

"There's nothing wrong, except that I believe I owe you an apology."

"Sir?"

"For the things I told you last night. I should never have burdened you with such terrible stories."

"I should think living it was far worse than just hearing about it."

Todd had no reply to that.

"And I'd like to think it might have helped you in some small way. My mother always told me that a burden shared is a burden lightened."

Todd shook his head. "No one should have to share a burden like that."

"Not even a friend who loves you?"

"Anthony..."

"If you want me to forget everything you told me, I will."

Todd sighed. "I wish you could, but things like that can't be forgotten. I'm sorry I took that innocence from you too."

They were silent for a moment, then Anthony burst out, "After all the things they made you do, how you could bear to touch me at all?" He bit his lip. "You must hate me for letting you do those same things to _me_."

At that, Todd finally turned his head to look at Anthony. "I don't hate you, son," he said quietly. "How could I?"

"Because I knew…" He swallowed and bit his lip again. "I _knew_ something was troubling you. I should've…"

"Don't start crying again, lad. Please?"

He caught himself in time. "No sir. I won't."

"I would do anything within my power for you, Anthony, no matter the cost." Todd leaned toward him, an intensity in his face and voice that was almost frightening. "You've been the only friend I've had—the only person who's cared in the least for me—for the past fifteen years. I'd do anything you ask."

Anthony hesitated.

"What is it, boy? Is there something you want from me?"

"I'd still like to touch you. Not...not like _that_. It's just…I think it's been a very long time since you were touched at all by someone who cared about you."

"_You_ have, son, over and over in these past weeks."

"Then let me do it again. Please. Just…touch you, nothing more. If it upsets you in any way, I'll stop."

"And if you become aroused, you'll let me—"

"No." Anthony made his voice firm, so there would be no further discussion about that. "Never again. All our debts are settled. From now on, everything that passes between us is friendship, with no question that it has to be repaid in any way."

"Anthony…"

"Please, Mr. Todd."

Todd took a deep breath, then nodded. "All right." He began to unfold the blanket that was still tucked around him. "Should I lie down on my stomach?"

The terrible vision from his nightmare flashed across his mind. "No. Just...sit there."

He moved slightly behind Todd and placed his hands on the thin shoulders, dismayed by the amount of tension there. He began to gently knead, letting his thumbs rest on the back of Todd's neck, working the palms of his hands across the scarred flesh, up and down, but not so far down that his touch would convey any sort of threat, stroking, caressing. Neither of them spoke. And, after what seemed an endless time, the muscles relaxed and Todd made a low sound in the back of his throat.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Yes." It was no more than an exhalation of air.

Just as Anthony was about to ask if he could go farther, there was a quick knock on the door and a low, "Anthony? You in there?"

Cooper. "Yes. I'm here."

"They're lookin' for you. You'd best get aboveboard."

"I will. Thank you." He glanced from Todd to the door, then back, almost sick with disappointment. He knew that if he left now, this moment would be gone forever. Todd would hide his body in the layers of clothing and never allow Anthony to touch him like this again.

"You have no choice," Todd said quietly. "You have to go."

Reluctantly, he slipped from the bed and began to pull on his wrinkled things. He was dressed in moments, but he paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Mr. Todd..."

"I'll see you tonight."

It was a dismissal. There was nothing he could do but say, "Yes sir", and go.

o-o-o-o-o

Cooper found a place beside him as they worked shifting the cargo, and leaned close to murmur, "You got somethin' goin' on with Mr. Todd?"

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks and hoped the relative gloom of the lower decks hid it. "He's my friend."

Cooper shrugged. "Don't matter none to me, but some of the others been talkin' about you an' him."

He went still. "What do you mean?"

"They're sayin' that you an' him are...y'know...doin' things."

"That's ridiculous." He hoped he sounded convincing, but Cooper gave a short bark of laughter.

"Not a bit of it. You been spendin' a lot of time with him. We don't hardly never see you no more."

"He was hurt. I've been taking care of him."

Cooper stopped too, turning to look at Anthony. "He ain't been hurt for weeks, an' you know it. Look, I'm just tellin' you this 'cause a couple of the regular sailors has been sayin' bad things. That when they get th' two of you ashore, they're gonna teach you that ain't no way to behave on one o' Her Majesty's ships."

Suddenly Anthony was furious. "And if these brave sailors are so incensed by what they think I'm dong, why didn't they go after Mr. Lewis? He did far worse than anything I could ever be accused of."

"Weren't just everbody knew about what Lewis did. Just them what he got afore somebody got _him_."

"Samuel..."

"I'm just tellin' you, friend to friend, so maybe you can save yourself some grief later. I gotta get these moved now, an' you better get busy too."

He walked away before Anthony could even think to offer his thanks.

o-o-o-o-o

Todd was at the table in the galley when Anthony arrived later, sitting at the far end, eyes on his plate, toying with his food. Anthony retrieved his own portion and went to join him, uncomfortably aware that he found himself watching the other men out of the corner of his eye, wondering which ones had threatened to do them harm.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing, sir." He dropped onto the bench beside Todd and tried to smile. "It's been a hard day, that's all."

They spoke of inconsequential things as Anthony ate and Todd continued to poke and nibble at his own meal. There was so much Anthony wanted to say. So much that he couldn't say.

"I saw Captain Evans on deck earlier," Todd said suddenly. "He told me that we might be in London by the morning."

The food lost whatever taste it had had. Anthony put down his fork and tried to make his voice steady. "I know. We were told earlier."

"I didn't expect to be there so soon."

"We've made good time. The winds have been with us."

"Yes."

"I'm sure you'll be glad to be home again."

"I suppose. It's been a very long time."

There was something in Todd's voice, something uncertain and uneasy, that made Anthony look quickly over at him. But before he could speak, Todd abruptly pushed his plate away and rose. "I think I'll go have a walk around the deck."

"May I join you, sir?"

"Of course."

Anthony retrieved both plates and utensils and carried them to their place, then followed Todd up and out. Todd had gone straight to the railing and was leaning against it as he so often seemed to do, staring outward as if he could see what lay ahead.

"Is everything all right, sir?"

"I've dreamed of this moment for the past fifteen years, but now that it's almost upon me I feel very..." Todd shook his head. "Afraid."

The admission startled him. "Afraid of the man who had you sent away?"

"No. Not Turpin. Even if he saw me, I doubt he'd recognize me. I am...much changed."

"Then what, sir?"

"Shadows." His voice faltered. "Ghosts."

Somehow Anthony knew that Todd was not speaking of the spirits of the departed. He moved a step closer. "Will there be someone waiting for you in London?"

"I don't know," he said quietly.

"Do you think—"

A rough voice interrupted him. "If you're done eatin', you can get back to work now, Hope."

The first mate. He moved guiltily away from Todd and, with a quick, "Yes sir," hurried toward the ladder leading below.

He paused just before he started down and glanced back at his friend. The first mate had taken his place at the rail and was saying something to Todd, sneering, making a rude gesture. Before Anthony could even wonder what he should do, Todd's head turned toward the man. Two seconds later, the sailor was scurrying away, and Todd was staring at the ocean again.

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony paused outside the door to Todd's room and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Todd's admission of fear had worried at him all night, but he had been kept too busy to speak further with Todd, although he_had_ managed to slip away for a moment to make sure Todd hadn't remained standing at the rail in the cold, as he had the day before. And now there was so little time left…

"Mr. Todd, sir?" Anthony tapped at the door, then pushed it open.

Todd was lying on the bed, hands folded on his stomach, gazing up at the ceiling with an expression which Anthony could not begin to identify. He seemed to shake himself, then sat up and swung his feet to the floor. "What is it?"

"We'll be making port in less than an hour. I thought you'd want to know."

"So soon?"

"Yes sir." Anthony dropped a seabag on the floor. "I've brought you a few things. Extra clothing. A bit of money. Things you'll need in London until you find your bearings."

"You shouldn't…" He caught himself, then murmured, "Thank you."

"Would you like to come up for the last bit of the journey? I'm free now. I thought we might…" He wanted to say, "might be together for a few moments more before we go our separate ways and I never see you again", but, instead, he ended weakly, "look at the lights on shore."

"All right."

Anthony lifted the leather coat from its peg and held it out. "I want you to keep this too. I'm told it's very cold in London this time of year, and if the air on deck is any indication..."

"Cold. Yes." Todd stood and shrugged into his coat, then half-raised an eyebrow in question.

"Sir, I…"

He found he had no words. He put his arms around Todd and hugged him close for a second, then released him and turned to lead the way back to the deck.

o-o-o-o-o

"It's beautiful, isn't it." Anthony stared, enthralled in spite of himself, as the fog faded to reveal the lights of the city sliding by, the Tower drawbridge parting to allow the _Bountiful_ to slip beneath, the imposing dome that he knew must be St. Paul's Cathedral.

"If something so full of evil and corruption and cruelty can be called beautiful," Todd said bitterly. He looked up as they sailed beneath the bridge, and that terrible haunted look was back in his eyes.

Anthony hesitated, then whispered, "Mr. Todd, sir, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Who is Lucy?"

Todd's head snapped toward him, and Anthony recoiled involuntarily from the look on his face. "Where did you hear that name?" he growled.

"Yesterday morning," he stammered, "when you were sleeping…you said her name...I thought maybe she was a friend you could call upon or…"

The anger drained away from Todd as quickly as it had come, and he turned his attention back to the view before him.

"I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my—"

"My wife," Todd said quietly. "Lucy's my wife."

Once again, Anthony felt very young and foolish. He had never considered that Todd might have a wife and a family waiting for him.

"She was…" He swallowed hard, then went on in a low, broken voice, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than Anthony. "She was so young. So beautiful. She was everything to me, my Lucy. Everything."

Todd paused, his mouth working, then went on. "There was an evil man…a man with too much power and no conscience. He saw Lucy, and he wanted her, and she refused him. So he sent two policemen with clubs, and they struck me down in front of Lucy and our baby and dragged me away." He shuddered at the memory. "I never saw either of them again. There was a mockery of a trial and then I was on the boat bound for Australia. And his way to her was…cleared."

Anthony hardly knew how to respond. "But surely she didn't succumb to him. Not after what he'd done to you."

"It's been so long." He dragged the back of his hand across his eyes. If it had been any other man, Anthony would have thought he was wiping away tears. "There was no reason for me to spend all those years thinking she'd still waiting for me. But I did. It's all I've wanted...all I've dreamed of...and now I'm so…"

Without stopping to consider what anyone would think, Anthony stepped closer to Todd and hesitantly placed an arm around his shoulder. To Anthony's surprise, Todd leaned slightly into the half-embrace, as if for comfort.

"Sir..." Too many thoughts were swirling in Anthony's mind. The terrible things—the terrible injustices—that had been done to his friend. The heartache Todd might find, and the dangers he might face from those who had ill-used him so long ago. The threats that Cooper had warned him about. And Anthony suddenly realized what he needed to do, even though he knew it was very likely that he could be hurt in so many different ways in the process.

"Mr. Todd, sir, you said if there was anything I wanted of you, I should ask."

"Yes."

"Then let me go with you when we reach London. Just for a day or so, just until you're sure you're going to be all right."

"Anthony..."

"I won't get in your way. I just want to be there if you need help. If you need a friend."

"Don't you have better things to do with your time in London?"

"I can think of nothing I'd rather do than help you, sir."

"Thank you." The words were so low he thought he might have imagined them. "For a bit then, yes." Todd looked up at him and gave one of his half smiles and said, "You're a good friend, Anthony."

Before Anthony could respond, Todd pulled away and turned to circle the deck one last time.


	12. Chapter 11

Standard disclaimers: None of these people are mine, but I hope I can do slightly better by them in the long run than Mr. Sondheim. The only thing I'm getting from this is the smiles when I think somebody else is enjoying it, so thanks, folks! Spoilers for the play/movie, and warnings for unpleasantness and the occasional sexual situation. Thanks to my excellent beta reader, Miss Becky, for the beta and for putting up with me.

o-o-o-o-o

_Eleven_

It felt very strange to be on dry land again, after so many weeks at sea. Anthony shifted the bag across his shoulder and joined Todd in walking up and down the dock until the ground no longer felt as if it were shifting beneath him. 

His friend Cooper passed by them on one of their trips. When Anthony made as if to speak to him, to say a farewell, he glared from Anthony to Todd, then stomped away. Anthony sighed, thinking it was unfair to be condemned for something he had barely had a chance to enjoy. 

"Are you ready?"

The question was so soft it might've been lost amid the noise if he hadn't been standing so close to Todd. "Yes sir."

They followed Cooper and the other departing sailors through the archway in the wall dividing the docks from the streets of London. Todd paused there for a moment, eyes shifting from side to side, and Anthony saw his mouth tighten.

"Are you all right, sir? "

"I'm sorry. It's just…"

"The ghosts?"

"Yes."

Anthony gave him a moment, then asked, "Where are we going?' 

"Fleet Street." He nodded to the left, toward darkened streets lit only by a few flickering lamps, with St. Paul's looming above them in the distance. 

"Is that where you lived?"

"Yes." Todd straightened and took a deep breath, then set off walking down the cobblestone road in that direction.

o-o-o-o-o

"Alms, good sirs? Alms?"

They had barely left the corridor leading into the city proper when the woman appeared, hand outstretched. Her clothes were filthy and tattered, and a ruined bonnet hid most of her disease-ravaged features. Anthony thought she was altogether the most pitiable thing he had ever seen. Todd would have walked past her without a word, but Anthony stopped and dug into his pocket and dropped a few coins into her palm. 

"There you are, mum."

"Thank you, lad. Thank you." The brim of the bonnet almost brushed against his chest as she moved closer. "I can do other things for you, for more coin," she said slyly. "I can—" 

"No." He tried to pull away, but she caught his arm and stared at Todd, who was standing impatiently a few feet away. 

"I know him," she whispered.

"No, mum, he's never been in London before." This time he did pull away, hurrying to join Todd.

"You can't take care of _every_ stray and wounded creature that you encounter, Anthony," Todd said quietly.

Anthony felt his cheeks go red. "I felt sorry for her."

"There are a thousand more like her on these streets, I'll wager, unless the city has changed that much."

"I know, sir, but—"

The beggar woman gave a horrible shriek. He spun to see what was wrong, and turned in time to see two men detach themselves from the shadows and hurl toward them. He dropped his bag and doubled his fists as the first plowed into him, sending him to the ground.

They rolled, neither able to land a blow until Anthony heard a sharp cry and jerked his head toward the sound, afraid Todd had been hurt. His attacker took advantage of his inattention to smack a fist across his cheek.

And then his attacker was yelping with pain and scrambling to get away. Anthony saw a flash of movement, and Todd was standing over him, an iron bar of some sort in his hand. The expression on Todd's face was terrifying.

The men were fleeing back through the alleyway; the one who had accosted Todd was limping heavily. He took a step after them, his fingers gripping the weapon, then stopped. As quickly as it had come, the anger drained from him. He turned and glanced down at Anthony.

"Are you hurt, boy?" 

"No sir." He took the hand and scrambled to his feet. "And you?"

Todd raised his other hand, and Anthony recognized one of the belaying pins from the ship. "After your first mate had a word with me last night, I thought it might be prudent to arm myself."

"That was wise of you, sir. I wish I'd had the same foresight. Samuel tried to warn me, but I thought surely no one would..." His voice trailed away, and he cursed himself once more for being so naïve. 

"You think too highly of your fellow man, Mr. Hope." But there was no hint of censure in Todd's voice. 

"Yes sir, I suppose I do."

"You'll learn."

"Yes sir, I suppose I will."

The beggar woman was hurrying forward, weaving almost drunkenly from side to side. Anthony reached out to stop her before she careened into them.

"I warned you, yes, I did, saw them and knew they meant to do you a mischief, so I screamed," she babbled, smiling up from behind the tangle of her hair.

"Yes mum, and we owe you our thanks." He fumbled for more coins, but she shook her head.

"You already paid me. And him..." She leaned toward Todd, trying to peer into his face, fingers working at the folds of her gown. "I _know_ him."

Todd turned his back on them and bent to retrieve his bag, hiding his weapon away inside the top. 

"No, mum, I'm sure you don't." Anthony patted her hand, then hurried to follow Todd.

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony marveled as Todd moved quickly and surely through the maze of the London streets. Todd didn't speak at all during the walk, all his attention focused ahead, his face like carved stone.

And then they came out of yet another passageway between the streets and Todd stopped, staring ahead at a building set diagonally across the street, a shop of some sort with the name "Mrs. Lovett's" lettered above the door. 

"Is this it, sir?"

"Yes." Todd's gaze had moved upward to the second story, to the second floor, to the sloped roof with the huge window. "We lived…up there." On the last word, he took a half step backwards, along the passageway. Anthony turned, alarmed when he saw the look on Todd's face.

"Are you all right, Mr. Todd?"

"I don't believe I can do this." He shook his head. "All these years and now I'm so close, and I'm…afraid."

"I'll be with you."

"I can't."

Anthony glanced quickly around the area. "Let's go and find somewhere to wait for a moment, until you're ready. There's a church, just over there."

"All right."

Anthony put a hand on Todd's elbow and guided him down the street and through the tall open doors. Inside, it was quiet and softly lit and scented with an incense that made Anthony's nose twitch. Todd stopped for a moment, just inside the sanctuary, as if reluctant to go on. Anthony gave him a gentle nudge forward. 

"Do you want to sit down?"

"I don't know." He let his seabag slide to the floor. "Perhaps I shouldn't take the chance. I think if there were a God, He'd strike me down for daring to come in here, after all I've done."

"God is very forgiving, sir."

Todd moved forward and dropped onto a pew. "I'm a fool. To come so close…"

"No sir, not at all. It's only natural for you to feel anxious now…" He broke off as a sudden inspiration struck him. "Mr. Todd, sir, would you like _me_ to go?"

"You?"

"Yes sir. If it would be easier for you, I can go and find out everything I can and then come back and tell you."

"You'd do that? You'd talk to Mrs. Lovett for me?"

"Yes sir, and gladly."

"And you'd tell me the whole truth, no matter what?"

"I would indeed, sir. Shall I go?"

"Yes." 

"And you'll wait here for me?"

He nodded.

"I'll try not to be long." Anthony set his own seabag beside Todd's and, with one last look at his friend, left the church.

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony hesitated with his hand on the knob, sent up a prayer for guidance, then pushed the door open and stepped inside.

A woman was standing behind the counter, toying with a lump of dough and a large knife. She was attractive—or would've been if her hair had been combed and her clothing not so dusty with the flour that seemed to coat every available surface around her. As the sound of the door, she looked up, and her eyes went wide.

"A customer!"

"Not exactly, mum, I'm—"

But she wasn't listening. "Been a while since I 'ad a customer." She pulled a plate from beneath the counter and dropped something onto it, then advanced on him like a madwoman, smiling and holding it out. "Sit y'self down, son."

It seemed the safest thing to do at that moment. He eased onto the bench and she dropped the pie—or at least what he supposed was a pie—onto the table in front of him. "Would y' like some ale to go with that?"

"No, mum, I really just wanted to ask—"

She was ignoring him again, humming to herself as she bustled over to fill a tankard. She thumped it down beside the plate, then stood over him, smiling expectantly. He looked at the food, then at her, and opened his mouth to speak again.

"I know they ain't the best, luv, but give it a try."

"I'm sure they're wonderful." Before she could interrupt again, he rushed on, "But I'm here for another matter entirely. I need some information."

"Oh?" She looked slightly disappointed, but settled onto the other end of the bench. "Wot you need t' know?"

"I believe my aunt—my mother's sister—and her husband used to live here." The lie came suddenly, easily, to him, the answer to his prayer, no doubt. 

"'er sister?"

"Yes mum. They lived above the shop here, or so we were told. Mother lost contact with her years ago. When she learned I'd be visiting London, she asked me to go and look in on Aunt Lucy. Make sure she and her family are doing well. But it seems so…deserted. I wondered if you could tell me where she is." He gave her an innocent, wide-eyed smile.

"Ah. Well…" She reached for the tankard and took a large swallow herself, then gazed intently into his face. "I c'n see the resemblance, now that I look. You have 'er mouth, all wide and smiley."

Anthony managed not to react to that. "That's what Mother always said. I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself. I'm Anthony Hope. And you must be Mrs. Lovett. Aunt Lucy wrote to Mother about her lovely landlady."

The woman preened briefly, then sobered. "I wish I 'ad better news to give you, son."

"Mum?"

She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, giving him an excellent view of her ample cleavage. "They been gone some fifteen years and more, 'er and 'er beautiful 'usband. Benjamin Barker." She spoke his name almost dreamily.

"Gone?"

"Yeah. Transported 'im, they did. Sent 'im away for life." She shook her head. "A bloody shame too. 'e were a real looker."

"Why?"

She snorted inelegantly. "'cause your aunt was a bloody fool, that's why. She'd caught the eye of somebody who coulda made their fortune, if she'd 'ad the sense to go with 'im for a night or two, but no, she had to play the virtuous lady and turn 'im down, time after time, 'til 'e got tired of askin' and done somethin' about it."

She turned the tankard up again, then went on, "So 'e got 'er husband out of the way, and then 'e started askin' again, but the silly little chit still said no." She seemed to remember herself and looked slightly abashed. "Not meanin' anything, you understand, 'er bein' your aunt and all."

"No mum."

"Then 'e sent 'is beadle—and there's an evil git if I ever saw one, for all the fine airs 'e puts on—to tell 'er that 'e was sorry and 'e'd made a mistake and 'e wanted to make things right for 'er. And like a fool she believed 'im. I told 'er she oughta think twice about it, but she wouldn't listen. She thought 'e was goin' to bring 'er Ben back, so she leaves the baby with me, and off she goes wi' th' beadle."

The woman was looking off into the distance now, almost the way Todd did sometimes. "And what happened?" Anthony prompted.

"Oh." She shook herself. "I ain't real sure, 'cause when she got back she weren't quite right in th' 'ead. Not makin' sense. I think there was some sorta fancy dress party—she kept blatherin' on about masks and animals' faces watchin' 'er. And Judge Turpin, turns out 'e weren't the least bit sorry, not that one. She said 'e put 'er on a couch and 'ad 'er, right there in front o' everybody, and maybe some o' them 'ad 'er too for all I know. She said she kept screamin' and screamin' and screamin', but nobody 'elped 'er. They just laughed."

"Oh God," Anthony breathed.

Mrs. Lovett rose. "Hold on. Back in a tic." She vanished through a doorway at the end of the shop and returned holding a bottle and two mostly clean glasses. "'ere. This'll make th' story go down a mite easier." She poured a clear liquid into one and pushed it toward him. He sniffed. Gin. As she filled her own glass, he lifted it to his lips and pretended to drink.

"When she come home, she was in a right state, all bruised and 'er dress torn 'alf off of 'er and 'er hair all down and tangled. She couldn't do nothin' but cry an' say 'ow could you, Ben, over an' over, real sad-like,. I thought she'd get over it in time, but one day she come downstairs an' kissed th' baby an' cried some more an' then left." She stopped to drink again. 

"Did she come back?" Anthony asked hesitantly.

"Oh yeah, she come back all right. She'd got some arsenic from the apothecary 'round the corner. She sat down right where you are and took it out and said she didn't want t' live no more. I told 'er she hadn't ought to do that, that she oughtta be thinkin' 'bout 'er baby, but she said nothin' mattered, that 'er Ben was gone and even if 'e came back, she was spoiled for 'im an' 'e was spoiled for 'er. Then she opened that bottle and drank it all down that quick, afore I could stop 'er."

"She killed herself?" 

"Tried. It weren't enough. It just left 'er not right in the head. They threw 'er in Bedlam for the longest time. And while she was gone, _'e_ came to get Johanna."

"Who?"

"Th' 'igh an' mighty Judge Turpin. Took 'er away and said 'e was gonna raise 'er as 'is own. But I saw the way 'e was lookin' at 'er, an' 'er not more than a year old, an' I heard 'im say to the beadle that 'e wondered if she'd grow up to be as pretty as 'er mother."

It was too much. Anthony folded his arms on the tabletop and dropped his head onto them, wanting to cry, wanting to scream, wanting to be sick. He had no idea how he would ever be able to repeat these horrible things to Todd. 

"There, there, son." Mrs. Lovett was patting his back, and her voice was kind. "It were all a long time ago."

"Not for him," he whispered to himself.

"I got somethin' what'll cheer you up." She hopped to her feet and grabbed his elbow. "Just you come along with me."

He let her pull him up and followed her out the side door and up the stairs to the room above. She pulled a key from her bosom and opened the door. "Right in 'ere."

The room where Todd…where _Benjamin Barker…_had once lived with his family was a shambles now, the floor and the few remaining pieces of furniture covered with dust, the wallpaper peeling, the windows filthy. Mrs. Lovett didn't seem to mind any of it. She crossed the room and went to her knees, and seemed to be prying at a piece of the floor.

"'ere." The board came free. She reached in to retrieve something, blew the dust off of it, and held it out to him. "Take 'em."

Reluctantly, he took it, trying not to notice that the bundle was wrapped in what seemed to be a moth-eaten and unraveling baby blanket. "What is it?"

"'ave a look." She replaced the board and rose, looking immensely pleased with herself. "They got left behind when 'e got shipped off to Australia. I hid 'em. I was afraid Lucy'd do 'erself harm with 'em, but she didn't need them t' do 'erself in, now did she?"

Slowly, Anthony unwrapped the bundle and raised the lid of the box inside. "Razors?"

"Yeah. Ben was a barber, y'know. A real artist with them things." She pointed. "Them 'andles is silver, too. Prob'ly worth a bit o' money. But I kept 'em, hopin' he'd come back some day." She brushed her hands against her skirt. "Don't look like that's ever gonna 'appen now, so you might as well take 'em, you bein' his kin and all."

"I…thank you, mum." He closed the lid and placed the box under his arm. "Will you let me pay you for them? For keeping them safe for the family?"

She shook her head. "Didn't do it for money. Did it for 'im."

"Then will you let me pay you for the pie and the ale?"

She gave him a wink. "Now that's somethin' I _will_ take your money for."

As he was digging for coins, she suddenly turned and said, "'ello, I almost forgot this." She scurried over to the dilapidated dresser and lifted something from the top. "You'll want t' take this back t' your ma."

It was a picture frame, a double one, with two faded photographs of a smiling young woman and a plump, happy baby. He looked down at the images of Todd's wife and daughter and found some selfish part of him wishing there were also a photo of Todd as he had looked in those days, before the years of hardship had changed him in every way.

"Thank you." He tucked it into an inside pocket of his coat. "Mother will be very pleased."

As he started down the stairs, he suddenly realized something and stopped. "Mrs. Lovett, you said Aunt Lucy was in Bedlam. Is she still there?"

She shook her head. "They put 'er out after a while."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"Prob'ly dead after all this time. They don't last long out on the streets."

"Yes mum. Thank you again."

"Y'know, dearie…" She leaned down to put a hand on his shoulder. "'old on a tic. I was just thinkin'…'ow long you plan to be in London then?"

"I'm not sure. Several more days at least."

"You got a place t' stay?"

"Not yet, mum."

"Why don't y' stay 'ere, then?" She jerked her head toward the door behind her. "I won't charge y' nothin' for the room, you being Ben's nephew and all."

"Oh no, mum, I couldn't impose—"

She snorted again. "Not a bit of it. Be nice t' have somebody around again."

He shifted uneasily. "I'm not here alone. I have a friend with me. A shipmate."

"Bring 'im along then. More th' merrier."

"I'm not sure what _his_ plans are."

"Tell y' wot." She leaned against the railing, once more putting her cleavage on display for him. "I'll go tidy th' place up a bit an' make a pallet on the floor for th' two o' ya. Then if y' want t' stay, it'll be ready, an' if not, it won't hurt th' place to get a bit o' a dustin' out. 'ow's that?"

"All right, mum. I'll ask him."

"Good. 'ere." She put the key into his hand. "I got another one wot I can lock up with. You and your friend just come in whenever y' like."

"Yes mum. Thank you."

She headed back into the pie shop, but he strongly suspected that she was watching out the window as he walked back to the church. He very much hoped she wouldn't follow him until he'd had time to do what he had to do there. 

o-o-o-o-o

Todd was still seated where Anthony had left him, bent forward, his hands clasped so tightly upon the back of the pew in front of him that his knuckles were white. Anthony slid in beside him, set the box of razors on the floor, and whispered, "Sir?"

"I've been sitting here wishing I still believed in God so I could pray, and I realized…" His voice caught. "I wouldn't know what to ask for." He lifted his head and turned toward Anthony. At the sight of Anthony's face, his breath caught in what almost sounded like a sob. "Lucy's dead."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Todd." 

"Tell me."

Anthony took one of Todd's hands and clasped it tightly between his own, said another prayer—this one he would find the right words—and began to speak.


	13. Chapter 12

The usual disclaimers: Not a single character here belongs to me, nor do their assorted problems

The usual disclaimers: Not a single character here belongs to me, nor do their assorted problems. No money is changing hands (at least until April 1, when I'll be at Best Buy to legitimize my audio-visual relationship with Mr. T). Spoilers for the play/movie, and warnings for unpleasantness and the occasional sexual situation. And since we're in AU territory now, I guess I should put up a warning about that. A huge thank you to my excellent beta reader and even more excellent friend, Miss Becky.

o-o-o-o-o

_Twelve_

Todd didn't cry. He sat staring toward the front of the church, and his eyes became huge black pools of hurt and misery, but not a single tear slid from them. Anthony supposed that Todd had lost the ability to cry, along with the ability to love, somewhere during the long years of imprisonment and suffering.

"After you were gone, Judge Turpin continued to pursue your wife, but she never gave in to him." Anthony felt that Todd needed to know that before anything else. "She refused him, again and again, until he grew tired of asking and resorted to a foul deception. He lured her to his house with the lie that he was sorry for what he'd done and wanted to make amends, and then, when she was there, he…violated her. Afterwards, she was quite understandably so very disturbed. She told Mrs. Lovett that she felt she was…spoiled."

Todd made a short, ragged sound of pain, and the fingers between Anthony's spasmed briefly, but his face remained still. "Go on."

"She poisoned herself. Mrs. Lovett tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen to reason. It didn't kill her, but it left her…not right in her mind. She was taken to Bedlam for a time, and then eventually turned out onto the streets. Mrs. Lovett said that after all this time, she's probably…" He couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"And Johanna?" The words were so low that Anthony almost thought he'd imagined them.

"After Lucy had…was gone…Judge Turpin came and took Johanna away with him, to be his ward. He said he'd raise her as his own. He must've finally felt some real remorse for the things he'd done." Anthony thought there was no need to repeat Mrs. Lovett's speculation about Turpin's other motives.

Todd was silent for a moment, then whispered, "Gone. They're both gone." 

"Yes sir." Anthony wanted to take Todd into his arms and hold him and comfort him. As if he _could_ be comforted after receiving such news. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, knowing it wasn't nearly enough.

Todd bowed his head slightly. "And I'm gone too. Lucy's husband. Johanna's father. That man is dead. He's been dead for years." 

"Sir..."

"All those years, I hoped…dreamed…I'd come home to find them waiting for me, but I knew…I knew…" Todd pulled his hand free, drawing away from Anthony. "I need to just…let me sit here for a moment."

Anthony fought down the lump in his throat and managed a soft, "Yes sir."

o-o-o-o-o

They sat there for far longer than just a moment. Todd was quiet, his breathing shallow, his gaze fixed sightlessly on the rich scarlet carpet beneath his feet. Anthony waited helplessly beside him, wanting to cry himself for the things that had been done and the pain he knew Todd was feeling. He was very much afraid that Todd had become lost in that horrible black place in his mind again, and that the time would come when he would be unable to find the way back.

And he hated himself because a very small voice in his mind had cried out with joy at the thought that Todd had no one in the world but him. He hated himself because, even at a moment like this, he wanted to run his fingers through the unruly strands of dark hair, to lean over and kiss the lowered forehead, to tell Todd he loved him. He hated himself because he was sitting in a _church_—a house of God—next to a man whose hopes and dreams had just been irrevocably destroyed, who was hurting beyond Anthony's capacity to imagine it, and yet he couldn't stop thinking how much he still _wanted_ Todd and wished Todd would return his feelings and touch him again and…

Both men sat lost in their different forms of misery as the shadows crept slowly across the walls of the sanctuary. The priest came in once and glanced their way, but Anthony roused enough to warn the man away with a quick shake of his head, not sure how Todd would react to an offer of spiritual comfort just now. And then he thought perhaps he had been wrong to do so. Perhaps he _should_ have let the man come over, for surely any reaction at all would be better than this.

At last he forced himself to move, bending to retrieve the box of razors from the floor. As if the movement had broken some spell, Todd started, blinking, seeming almost surprised by his surroundings. "Anthony?"

"Yes sir."

"How long have we been here?"

"Not very long," he lied.

"I'm sorry. I was…thinking." He looked around, and frowned at the changed light. "It's past noon. Why didn't you leave me and go your own way?"

"Because this _is_ my way for now, sir, for as long as you'll allow it." He fought to keep from reaching out to touch Todd, settling for, "Are you going to be all right, sir?"

Todd considered, then nodded. "I've been forced to learn to take whatever fate might throw at me and move on. I know the worst now, so I need to do just that. Move on." 

"I'm sorry. For that and for...everything."

Todd's head jerked once in a nod.

"What will you do now?"

"I have to find a way to take Johanna away from Turpin before it's too late...if it isn't too late already."

"Too late?"

Todd looked at him with another of his unreadable expressions. "He may have already used her like he used Lucy. Like..." His voice trailed away.

Anthony was shocked. "Surely he wouldn't do that to a _child_."

"She's not a child. She must be sixteen or more now, a woman grown, and if she's half as pretty as her mother..."

"But she's his _ward_."

"As if that would matter. The man has no morals. He lets nothing stand in his way, not when he wants something badly enough." He glanced at the box in Anthony's hands. "What have you got there, boy?"

Anthony held out the box. "I believe these are yours. Mrs. Lovett kept them for you."

Slowly, hesitantly, Todd reached for it, setting it on his lap and rubbing a hand across the top. "My razors."

"Yes sir."

"She kept them all these years." He lifted the lid almost reverently, then slid his fingertips across the row of gleaming silver. "They're all still here. They're the _only_ friends still here to welcome me home."

"I'm sure Mrs. Lovett would welcome you, sir. She spoke very fondly of you."

"Oh I've no doubt she did. Mrs. Lovett always had a _great_…fondness for me." He lifted one of the razors and flicked it open with a practiced movement of his wrist. "She was so fond of me that she could barely keep her hands off me, even in front of her Albert and my Lucy." He turned the blade back and forth in the light streaming through the nearby window. "I'm sure it all seemed innocent enough to them, when she'd put her arm around me or pat me on the back, but I'd been caught alone with her often enough to know exactly what it was that she wanted of me."

Anthony felt a flash of guilt for wanting that very same thing.

"It almost looks like he's smiling at me. Like he's happy to see me again." An answering smile was starting at the corners of his mouth, the sort of smile that disturbed Anthony somehow. "Holding him like this, I can almost feel like myself again. Almost." 

"Mr. Todd..."

He snapped the razor shut and replaced it, and the smile faded. "We need to find a place to stay before we go for Johanna."

"You'll let me stay with you then?"

"For the moment."

"Sir, Mrs. Lovett offered us the use of the room above the shop, at no charge."

Todd gave him a sharp glance. "Why would she do that?"

Anthony ducked his head guiltily. "Because she believes I'm Lucy's nephew. I'm afraid I wasn't entirely truthful with her. I didn't want to tell her about you, so I told her I was a relative, come to check on Lucy and her family."

"You lied to her?"

"Yes sir."

"And have you lied to _me_?" There was a hint of something dark in the question.

"No sir. I would never do that."

"There's nothing you've held back?"

He leaned toward Todd and put as much sincerity into his voice as he could. "No sir. Much as I wish I could've spared you, I've told you all I learned." Not _quite_ all, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him, but he pushed it away. He had told Todd all the important things; there had been no need to share the more distressing details. "When Mrs. Lovett made the offer, I told her I was with a friend who might have other plans. I thought you might not want to…"

"No." Todd seemed to be collecting himself. "We need a place to stay. That's as good as any. I've no doubt the ghosts will haunt me wherever I go, so I may as well go home and face them now." He stood and Anthony rose too, moving to let him exit the pew. He retrieved his seabag and put the box with the razors inside the top.

"She doesn't know that you're...you were..."

Todd heaved the bag onto his shoulder. "With any luck, she won't recognize me as the young man she was so _fond_ of and we'll be able to have some peace there."

o-o-o-o-o

As Mrs. Lovett had promised, the room had been cleaned—somewhat—and a clump of blankets had been molded into a rough bed in the corner away from the large window. Todd paused only briefly in the doorway, turning his head from side to side once, then crossed the room to drop his bag by the sagging dresser. 

"Are you sure this will be all right, sir?"

He looked around again, more slowly, then nodded briefly. "Yes."

Anthony's stomach chose that moment to remind him that it had been far too long since he and Todd had shared their last meal on board ship the night before. "I'm sorry, sir, but I think we should find something to eat before we do anything else. Not here," he added quickly. "Someplace—"

He was interrupted by a rapid knock at the door. Before he could respond, it was pushed open. He was dismayed, but not entirely surprised, to see Mrs. Lovett standing there.

"Ah good, y' come. I 'eard y' on th' steps an' thought I'd jus' pop up and see if y're settlin' in or if y' wanted anythin'."

"Everything's fine, mum, thank you."

"Th' beddin' all right?"

"Yes mum."

She was all but going onto the tips of her toes in an attempt to see past him into the room and get a look at Todd.

"An' your frien' from th' ship? That 'im?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Anthony could see Todd's shoulders stiffen, but when he came forward to greet the woman, his manner was polite and correct. He made a half bow to her and said mildly, "Mrs. Lovett, ma'am. I'm pleased to meet you. I am Sweeney Todd, and I must join my friend in thanking you for your generosity."

"Ah, well, pleased I'm sure." She regarded him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing, then gave a small shake of her head and dismissed him, turning her attention back to Anthony. "Y' sure there ain't nothin' I c'n bring y'?"

"No mum. Thank you."

"I s'pose y're goin' out t' see th' sights 'fore y' settle in for th' night?"

"Yes mum. I believe we will."

"You be careful then. An' remember, should y' need anythin'..." She let her voice trail away meaningfully and gave him a wink before turning to clatter back down the stairs.

"You'd best be careful of that one, lad, or she'll have her hands down the front of _your_ trousers before you can blink."

Anthony blushed, but was glad that now Todd sounded mildly amused, rather than distressed. "Yes sir." He glanced out at the street below. "_Shall_ we go see the sights?"

"There's only one sight that interests me. Judge Turpin's house."

"How will we find it?"

"I know where he lives. I could find my way there blind."

He wondered at that, but only said, "Let's be on our way, then."

o-o-o-o-o

When Anthony's stomach complained again, Todd insisted that they stop for a meal. Anthony ate heartily, glad of better fare than had been served on ship and, as usual, Todd pushed the food around on his plate.

"You really should try to eat more, Mr. Todd," Anthony suggested as he broke open his third—or maybe fourth—roll. 

"I'm all right."

"Is there something else we could order? Something more to your taste?"

"No. This is fine." Todd reached for a roll of his own and immediately began to shred it, popping only a few bites into his mouth. 

"It's just..." 

"What?"

"I worry about you."

"I know. And I'm more grateful than I can say." Todd dropped the crumbs onto his plate and fixed Anthony with one of those intense looks that seemed to dig into his soul. "I think you're the only thing keeping me from going completely mad right now."

"Sir, I..." Anthony didn't know how to respond. Then Todd gave him a half-smile, and he dared to reach over and put his hand on the thin wrist.

"I don't want to threaten you, Mr. Todd," he said with a mock scowl, "but if you don't eat something here, I'm afraid I'm going to be forced to tell Mrs. Lovett, and she'll bring you one of her dreadful meat pies."

The smile widened ever so slightly. "All these years and she still hasn't learned to make a decent pie?"

"Not if the one she tried to serve me was a sample of her abilities."

"Albert used to do all the baking," he said quietly. "He wouldn't even let her roll out the crust, because she'd make it too thick and lumpy. I used to laugh and tell Lucy how lucky I was to have married her because she knew how to..." His voice trailed away.

And then Anthony remembered the other thing Mrs. Lovett had given him. He touched his coat, feeling the edges and the slight weight of it, and hesitated before saying, "Mr. Todd, Mrs. Lovett gave me something else. I'm sorry. I quite forgot."

Todd raised an eyebrow in question. Anthony pulled the frame out of his pocket and turned it so Todd could see the backing. Todd's mouth went tight and his eyes seemed to flare briefly with that awful light.

"Put it away," he snapped. 

"I'm sorry, sir. I thought..."

"Put it away. I'll look at it when we go back."

"Yes sir." Anthony tucked the pictures out of sight.

"If you're done eating, let's be on our way." Todd pushed back from the table. Anthony realized there was nothing he could do but follow suit.

o-o-o-o-o

It was the time of year where dusk came early. The lamplighter was just beginning to make his rounds when they finally turned a corner and, for the second time that day, Todd pointed out a house. "That's where he lived fifteen years ago."

Anthony could only stare at the imposing building. "It's like a fortress."

"Yes. But there's a way in, and I'll find it." 

Anthony heard the soft rustle of skirts behind them and then a plaintive, "Alms? Help a poor woman down on her luck?" 

Todd seemed not to notice. He gestured for Anthony to remain behind and began to stroll casually down the street, glancing sideways every now and then.

"Alms, good sir? Oh...it's you again."

Anthony was surprised to see the same beggar they had encountered at the docks, even more so to see her in such a fine neighborhood. "Good evening, mum."

"And what's a fine young man like you doin' in a place like this?" 

He forced a smile. "We're just out seeing the city, mum."

She ducked her head and peered sideways after Todd. "That's a wicked place, Judge Turpin's house is. It reeks of evil. Don't you be goin' near there, boy, or he'll snatch you up and…" She made a rude gesture. "It don't matter to _him_ what kind of equipment you have below, not if he takes a liking to you. Your pretty friend knows." Her fingers began to work at a button on Anthony's coat. "How do I know that? I _must_ know him."

"No mum, I'm sure you don't." Anthony was only half listening to her. He removed her hand from his coat and put a coin into it, hoping she'd leave, but she moved even closer.

"You'd better keep away from his pretty little ward too."

"Johanna?" He looked down, giving his full attention to her. "She _is_ there, then?"

"He keeps her snug, he does, all locked up and safe, so nobody but him can talk to her. Poor little thing."

Todd was returning, walking past Anthony and moving on. With a quick, "Thank you, mum," Anthony turned on his heel, leaving her mumbling to herself behind him as he hurried to catch up to Todd.

Neither spoke until they'd put several blocks between them and the Judge, but at last Todd muttered, "If you keep giving your money to every beggar on the street, you'll soon have none left."

"There's little danger of that just yet. I have a good bit put back. I never wasted my pay on drink or gambling or whores like my shipmates."

"A true innocent, and I corrupted you." There was something very much like regret in Todd's voice. 

"No sir." Anthony caught his elbow. "I was quite willing—quite happy—to be corrupted by you."

Todd stopped, staring at him through the deepening shadows, brow furrowed. "I'd hoped you'd resolved your feelings for me."

Anthony hesitated, then spoke as honestly as he dared. "There's nothing to resolve, Mr. Todd. I know my feelings will never be returned and, like you, _I_ must live without _my_ dream, but I hope you will still allow me to be your friend."

"Anthony…" Todd placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled his head down slightly until their foreheads touched. "Son…"

But before Anthony could even begin to hope, Todd abruptly released him and resumed their journey back toward their room.

o-o-o-o-o

"I see Mrs. Lovett's been up to light the lantern and leave water for tea," Todd said dryly as he shut the door behind them. "And to go through our things, I'd wager."

"Surely she wouldn't do that, sir."

Mutely, Todd pointed to the box of razors setting on the dresser.

"You didn't put them out?"

"No."

"Then it's a good thing we have nothing to hide."

"You don't." Todd pulled off his heavy coat and, failing to find a place to hang it, dropped it across his bag.

"Sir, the beggar woman I spoke with? She told me that Johanna is there."

"With the Judge?"

"Yes sir."

"She won't be for long." Todd held out a hand. "If you want to give me the pictures now..."

"Yes sir." 

Todd took the frame, but didn't open it. Suspecting that Todd wished to be alone for a while, Anthony took off his own coat and shed his boots, then settled onto the pallet. It was thin and the floor was hard beneath it, but he had slept in worse beds aboard ship.

"I think I'll turn in now, if you don't mind."

"I'd like to sit up a bit. I need to think."

"Yes sir."

He settled himself, pulled a blanket over him and, amazingly, fell asleep.

o-o-o-o-o

Something woke him some time later. He opened his eyes, letting his vision adjust to the dimness of the room, then bit back a gasp of dismay. Todd was sitting on the floor just under the window, his vest off, his shirtsleeves turned back to the elbows. He held the photographs in one hand, and an open razor in the other. The moonlight gleamed on the blade as he slowly drew the back of it up and down along his bared forearm.

Anthony sat up slowly, not wanting to startle Todd. "Sir? Are you all right?"

"He's still got an edge, even after all these years. Do you know how easy it would be to…" He gestured toward his throat, and Anthony cried out in alarm as the blade sliced the air too close to his skin. "It would all be over. All the pain. All the loneliness. All the grief. Everything. There was a time I'd have done it without a second thought."

Todd let the razor drop onto his thigh and tilted his head slightly. "Aren't you going to warn me that it would've been a mortal sin?"

"I…"

"That wasn't what stopped me. If I remember my catechism correctly, it's a mortal sin to take your own _life. _But I _had_ no life. Not then." He changed the subject before Anthony could reply. "We can sell them."

"Sir."

"The razors. There are seven of them. I'll keep two—the ones that were always my favorites—and sell the rest. They should bring a good price. Then won't have to worry about having the money to take Johanna away."

"How will we manage to take her from the house? And what if she doesn't want to go?"

Todd shook his head and put the razor down. "Go back to sleep. I'll come up with a plan by morning." 

As Anthony settled back, he saw Todd hold up the frame and turn his attention to the photo. He quickly closed his eyes, feeling it was too intimate a moment for him to witness.

And, just before he drifted back to sleep, _he_ came up with a plan.


	14. Chapter 13

Thirteen

The usual disclaimers—nobody here belongs to me, no money being made, etc. Continued spoilers for the play/movie, and warnings for unpleasantness and the occasional sexual situation. And we're moving just a bit deeper into AU territory.

Thank you to my good friend and beta reader, Miss Becky, who let me incorporate one of her comments into the story (well, not so much "let me" as said it was okay after the fact), and thanks to everybody who's let me know you're reading and enjoying this. I hope I can live up to your expectations. (And P.S.—I _do_ know where we're going now and how we're going to get there, which certainly makes _my_ life easier…)

o-o-o-o-o

_Thirteen_

The banging at the door woke him. It sounded as if someone were kicking at the wood again and again. Forcing his eyes open, he rolled over in time to see Todd, sleeves and vest properly buttoned again, open the door with what might've passed for a sincere smile.

"Mrs. Lovett," he said pleasantly. "Let me help you with that." He took a tray from her hands as she pushed on into the room and called over his shoulder, "Anthony, we have a guest. Mrs. Lovett has very kindly brought us some breakfast."

"Thank you, mum." He scrambled to his feet, not missing the way her eyes swept over him as he stood, and was grateful that he'd slept fully clothed.

"I said to m'self, that boy needs 'is food, a growin' lad like 'im." She gave him another wink. "Tho' I'll wager y're grown enough where it counts, eh?"

Anthony felt himself go bright red with embarrassment, but she only laughed. "Eat 'earty, then. An' I'll be expectin' th' both o' y' for supper."

"Yes mum."

As he pushed the door closed after her, he heard a strange sound and looked quickly over his shoulder, his eyes widening. He didn't believe he'd ever heard Todd laugh. True, it hadn't been much of a laugh—more a short bark of amusement than real laughter—but still, it gave him hope.

"She has her eye on you, Anthony. You'd best learn to move fast around her."

"Yes sir." He peered at the contents of the tray.

"Some sort of porridge. And I daresay even what was served aboard ship had more taste than hers, but I suppose it's better than nothing." Todd took a bowl and spoon and settled back onto the floor beneath the window. Anthony noticed that the box which held the razors was shut again and that there was no sign of the framed photographs.

"Yes sir." Anthony took his own bowl.

"I put water on to boil. She left us some tea."

"We'll have a better tea later today. Mr. Todd..." He set his bowl on the floor and dropped, cross-legged, before his friend. "I think I know how to reach Johanna."

Todd immediately put his own bowl aside, untouched. "How?"

"If I'm not confused on my days, this is Sunday, so Judge Turpin should be at home in the afternoon, after services. I'll visit his house and tell him the same story I told Mrs. Lovett—that I'm Lucy's nephew and that I'm newly arrived in London and want to meet my cousin."

Todd shook his head. "No."

"He couldn't possibly object to that. I could at least see her—speak to her."

"No. You have no idea what sort of man Turpin is. What he's capable of."

"I believe I _do_ have some idea, sir, after hearing what he did to your wife."

"I won't let you risk putting yourself in that kind of danger. We'll find another way."

"How could there be any danger? The worst he can do is refuse to let me see her and send me away. Please, sir...let me do this for you. For _her_."

Todd hesitated for a long moment, struggling, then, with obvious reluctance, murmured, "All right."

"I'll go—"

"You'll eat first. You don't want to face Turpin on an empty stomach." Todd had lost any interest he might have had in his own breakfast. "And you need to clean up a bit and not go in the clothes you slept in. Make yourself look respectable."

Anthony wolfed down the porridge, then pushed himself to his feet. "I have some clean clothes in my bag. I'll go ask Mrs. Lovett for some soap and a washbasin." He risked a grin. "I'm not so sure _she_ isn't more dangerous than the Judge."

Todd didn't smile at that, but his expression _did_ seem to lighten a bit.

o-o-o-o-o

Mrs. Lovett cheerfully provided the few items Anthony asked for, finding and filling a pitcher and collecting a basin and a few bits of soap and a ratty towel. She put everything into Anthony's arms, then said, "Send y'r frien' down for a tic. I got somethin' else for y', t' make th' place more homey like."

"Yes mum."

He wasn't looking forward to telling Todd that he had been summoned, but Todd was lost in his own thoughts and went without comment. Anthony set the basin down, then went to dig through his seabag for suitable items of clothing. He could do nothing about his shoes, as he only had the one pair now, but there was a fairly new pair of trousers and a neat white shirt, both only slightly wrinkled. He pulled them out and put them aside and then went to pour the water into the basin.

He had just added a bit of hot water from the kettle when he heard Mrs. Lovett coming up the stairs, chattering away, accompanied by an odd series of thumping noises. Somewhat alarmed, he turned just as she came through the door.

"'ere y' go, luv, look wot I brought y'."

Todd was standing at the top of the stairs, leaning on the back of a somewhat disreputable wooden chair with a padded seat and back. Todd glanced from it to Mrs. Lovett and shook his head.

"J'st you bring it on in, Mr. T," she directed. "I thought y' might want someplace t' rest y' bones. It was me poor Albert's chair—he was m' 'usband, God rest 'is soul. C'n y' get that a'right, Mr. T?"

"Yes." He dragged the chair into the center of the room.

She beamed happily. "Y' got everythin' y' need now?"

"Yes mum. Thank you."

For a moment, he thought she was going to stand there and wait for him to undress, but Todd took a step forward and made a gesture toward the door and said quietly, "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Lovett."

"Glad t', I'm sure." With one last look over her shoulder, she was gone.

Anthony waited until the sound of her footsteps had faded away, went to the door to make sure she was gone, then undid his shirt and stripped to the waist and began to wash himself.

o-o-o-o-o

"Here."

Todd had eased himself carefully into the chair, as if afraid it would collapse beneath his weight, and waited there quietly as Anthony washed. His sudden movement, almost flinging himself to his feet, startled Anthony.

"Sir?"

Todd stared critically at his chin. "You need to shave."

"Yes sir, I was just about to—"

"Sit down. Let me do it."

"Sir?"

Todd turned to open the box of razors, pulling each one out in turn to examine the blades. "You need to look your best." He settled on one and gave Anthony a half-scowl. "Sit down, boy. You forget—I'm a barber. I won't slit your throat by accident."

"Yes sir." He dropped into the chair, watching in awe as Todd effortlessly whipped up a far better lather with the scraps of soap than he had been able to manage.

"Tilt your head back." Todd dipped Anthony's shaving brush into the frothy mixture and began to spread it across his cheeks and chin. "Haven't you ever had someone shave you?"

"No sir."

Todd made a non-committal sound, then retrieved the chosen razor and set to work.

Todd moved quickly and efficiently, drawing the razor up across Anthony's skin, wiping the blade clean on the towel, then repeating the process, over and over. His easy skill reminded Anthony too clearly that being a barber had once been a part of Todd's life—that he had been a happy man. A normal man. A sane man. He desperately wished he could find a way to change Todd back into that man.

Todd was leaning over him, fingertips almost brushing his skin, his brow furrowed with concentration, so close that Anthony could have pulled the beautiful mouth down to his, and suddenly his thoughts turned in another direction entirely and his breathing quickened. He had never imagined that the simple act of being shaved could be so...arousing.

"There." Todd wiped away the last bit of lather and handed him the towel so he could remove the soap residue from his face. Blessedly, he turned away to clean the razor, giving Anthony time to bring himself under control. If Todd had noticed his involuntary reaction, he chose to ignore it. Or perhaps he was so focused on Johanna that he had no thought for anything else.

Carefully keeping his back to Todd, Anthony finished undressing and pulled on the clean clothing. At last he felt able to turn and say, "Ready, sir. Do I pass inspection?"

Todd's gaze swept up and down and he nodded.

"Then I'll be off, unless there's something else."

"Anthony..." Todd put a hand on his arm.

"Yes sir?"

"Be careful, son. Turpin is a dangerous man. Don't let him suspect that you're anything other than what you claim to be."

"I'll be careful, sir."

And as he set out for the Judge's house, Anthony thought he would risk any danger to see that look of concern on Todd's face—to think that Todd did care at least a little for him.

o-o-o-o-o

The house was even more forbidding in the daylight, without the softening shadows of evening, but Anthony barely noticed it. As he'd approached, he'd seen a flash of movement in an upper window, and his attention had been drawn away from the house and he could see nothing but..._her_.

Johanna. Surely there was no one else it could be. A young, sweet face famed by golden hair that seemed to glow in the sunlight—so beautiful that Anthony knew she would've easily stolen his heart if it had not already been given. He gazed up at her, suddenly realizing that _she_ was the key. If she could be reunited with her father, if she were safe and they could rebuild their lost life and be a family, perhaps _then_ Todd could learn to live again. To smile, to laugh, to be happy. To love. Perhaps he could even find room in his heart for...

He felt a tug at his sleeve and heard a sly, "Where's your friend today, him with the pretty dark eyes, eh?"

Before he could even look down at her, he heard another voice, this one deeper and harsher. "Here, you. Get away from him."

An oily little man in a dark brown leather coat came bustling toward them, scowling. He seized the beggar by the arm and shook her. "You've been warned about coming 'round here and bothering your betters."

"But I know him. Know his friend too. Pretty little friend..."

"Off with you now!" The newcomer gave her a shove and she stumbled away.

Anthony had opened his mouth to protest, but something about the man's entire demeanor made him say only, "Thank you, sir."

"Can't be too careful around that sort, you know." He touched the tip of his walking stick to the brim of his hat, then moved down the street after the woman, as if to be sure she was leaving the vicinity.

Anthony stared after him for a moment, thinking he had seldom seen a more repugnant specimen of humanity, then turned his attention back to Johanna. Her face was pressed close to the glass, and she was looking down at him. He put his hand over his heart, gave a half-bow, and smiled at her. For just a moment, she smiled back. Then she spun and darted away from the window.

"Young man."

The front door had opened as he was staring at Johanna, and a man was standing on the stoop, a tall man, silver-haired, not unattractive, with an almost kindly face, but there was something about him that made Anthony uneasy even before he realized that this must be Judge Turpin.

He raised a hand and beckoned Anthony to him. "Are you lost, boy?"

"No sir."

"Then may I ask why you're skulking about outside my house."

Anthony put on his most innocent smile and said humbly, "I was trying to gather my nerve to knock at the door of such a grand establishment, my lord. You _are_ the honorable Judge Turpin, of whom everyone speaks so highly?"

"I am Turpin. Do you have business with me?"

"Yes sir, I do."

"I hope it has nothing to do with the way you were gandering at my ward."

Anthony made his eyes go wide and shocked. "Gandering? Oh no, my lord, I would _never_ be so impertinent—so disrespectful to the lady, or to you. I only meant to offer a greeting. If I've done anything to offend..."

Turpin examined him a moment, then nodded. "Come in, lad, and tell me what I can do for you."

"Thank you, sir." Anthony followed him inside, telling himself it was foolish to feel trapped when the door closed behind him.

"This way." Turpin led him down a richly paneled hallway and ushered him into what was obviously the library. "Please. Sit down."

"Thank you, sir." He perched carefully on the edge of one of the chairs. "My name is Anthony Hope, my lord. I'm a sailor, from the _Bountiful_, out of Plymouth, newly arrived in London."

"Ah." Turpin raised his eyebrows. "A sailor."

"Yes sir."

"Would you care for something to drink, Mr. Hope?"

"Thank you, but no."

"You don't indulge?"

"No sir."

Turpin poured half a glass from the crystal decanter on a nearby table and seated himself across from Anthony. "A sailor who doesn't drink. Remarkable. But perhaps you indulge in..._other_ vices instead." There was a purr in his voice that seemed almost sinister.

"Sir?"

"Sins of the flesh?"

At the words, Anthony had a quick flash of memory of Todd's hands upon him. He ducked his head, going crimson with embarrassment.

"Indeed." Turpin chuckled and raised his glass, letting his gaze move down across Anthony's body and then back up. "And I daresay your travels have taken you to _many_ exotic ports."

"They have, sir."

"And given you many...opportunities."

"I..."

"I'm sure a fine lad like you wasted no time availing himself of all the forms of pleasure offered to him."

"Sir?"

Turpin's smile widened. "Have you ever visited Greece? There are brothels there which provide delights beyond your imagination." He leaned forward and placed a hand on Anthony's knee. "Who sent you to me, boy?"

Anthony caught his breath with sudden understanding, and more than a little apprehension. "Sir," he said carefully, "I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding. I'm not here for...I wasn't sent to...I'm here to ask if I might speak with my cousin"

Turpin removed his hand and sat back, all pleasantness gone from his face. "Johanna?"

"Yes sir. Her mother and mine were sisters. Mother had lost contact with Aunt Lucy, and asked me to visit her when I arrived in London, but when I went to the place where she and her husband had lived..." The expression on Turpin's face made his voice fade away.

"And I suppose that chattering busybody Nellie Lovett sent you here." There was venom in his tone.

"No sir, not at all, but Mrs. Lovett _did_ tell me that you had been good enough to take in my poor cousin. That's how I knew where to come."

"And did Lovett tell you why Johanna _needed_ to be taken in?"

Anthony nodded, then looked down and said quietly, "She told me that my uncle committed some horrible crime and was transported for life, and then my aunt went mad and killed herself."

"It was a great tragedy for poor Johanna, of course."

"Yes sir. She's very fortunate to have found such a generous guardian." He dared to look back up.

"She was quite young when she was orphaned, you know. She has no real memory of any family other than myself."

"No sir, I suppose she wouldn't."

"I never told her what happened to her parents. I wished to spare my dear Johanna the pain and shame. I fear it would be quite upsetting for her to speak with you of such things."

"I wouldn't..."

Turpin's voice went cold. "In fact, I think it would be quite upsetting for her to speak with you at all."

There was only one way to respond. "Of course, my lord. I'm sorry. I didn't realize...please forgive me..."

"My lord? A moment of your time?"

Anthony looked over his shoulder. A man was standing in the doorway—the man he'd seen earlier on the street, chasing the beggar woman away. The man was looking at him with narrowed eyes and a very strange expression on his face.

"Of course. Excuse me, Mr. Hope."

"Yes sir." He rose with Turpin.

Turpin pulled the door shut behind him, and Anthony could hear the low rumble of their voices from the hall. He took the opportunity to look around the room, startled by the sexual nature of the artwork that decorated the walls, and wondered what to do next.

"Mr. Hope."

"Sir?"

Turpin was standing in the doorway, his expression dark and angry, with the other man hovering just behind him. "Beadle Bamford tells me that you were talking to a woman on the street."

He wondered at the harm in that, but replied, "Yes sir, a poor beggar woman spoke to me."

"She's a whore," Turpin spat. "She's been warned about coming here. I thought we had settled the matter for good, but obviously she needs another lesson."

"She seemed harmless enough," he said tentatively.

"Appearances are deceiving. She said she knew you." It was an accusation.

"She did say that sir. I believe she must be the same beggar who accosted us at the wharf when we arrived in port yesterday morning."

"And the friend of yours that she spoke of?"

Coming from Turpin, that question terrified him, but he made his face blank and respectful, determined to show no alarm. "There were several of us from the ship on our way to break our fast before we went our separate ways, my lord, but I believe she meant my shipmate, Samuel Cooper. She seemed very taken with him."

"Why did she say she knew him?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, sir. I think perhaps she is not quite right in the head, and he reminded her of someone she once knew."

"And _I_ think, Mr. Hope, that it is time for you to quit these premises."

"Yes sir." He moved forward instantly, but Turpin blocked his way.

"I do not want to see your face on this street again. Do you understand?"

"Clearly, sir."

"If you ever come near here—ever try to upset my sweet Johanna—I'll make you rue the day you were born."

"Yes sir."

Turpin stepped aside and gave a sharp nod to Bamford.

For a small man, Bamford had a surprising amount of strength. Before Anthony had time to struggle, he was seized by the collar and dragged down the hallway, toward the back of the house. "Here you go, my lad," Bamford sneered, jerking open the back door and flinging Anthony out onto the pavement.

He was unable to completely catch himself in time. He gasped with pain as his face struck the pavement, splitting his lip and cheek. Before he could move, Bamford put a boot under his stomach and roughly rolled him onto his back, walking stick raised as if to strike.

"Next time he'll give you to _me_, pretty little boy." He leaned down to brush a finger down Anthony's face. His expression left no doubt as to the meaning of those words.

And then, with a slam of the door, he was gone. Shuddering, Anthony pushed himself to his feet and stumbled away. He risked one last look up at Johanna's window before starting back toward Fleet Street, wondering desperately all the way what they would do next.

o-o-o-o-o

He had hoped to be able to make it up the stairs unnoticed, but Mrs. Lovett spotted him before he'd even gotten completely across the street. With a shriek, she flung her door open and grabbed his arm, dragging him inside.

"Lor' luv us, boy, wot 'appened to you?"

"I'm all right, really." He heard footsteps hurrying down the stairs and sighed.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Ah, Mr. T, y'r frien's got 'isself roughed up a bit. Sit y'self down an' I'll look after it."

"It's nothing."

"Sit." Todd's voice was firm. Anthony sat.

"'ere, let me jus' clean that up." She was fussing over him with a rag and water, washing the blood from his face, clucking disapproval over the stains on his shirt. "Don' know if that un'll come out. Wot 'appened?"

He was uncomfortably aware of Todd standing in the doorway, of the tension in the lean body. "I took a wrong turn down a dark alley, that's all. But I managed to escape. I'll know better next time."

She shook her head. "Ain't 'ardly safe t' walk th' streets some days. There." Finished, she leaned back. "Y' look a mite better now."

"Thank you, mum."

"C'n I get y' a drop o' ale? Somethin' to eat?"

"No mum, if you don't mind I think I'll just go upstairs and..." He gestured at the ruined shirt.

"Send it back down if y' wan' me t' try to wash it out."

"Yes mum."

Todd stepped back to allow him to lead the way up the steps. He didn't speak until they were in the room and the door had been shut. And then the only word he said was, "Bamford."

"Yes."

"This is my fault. I never should've let you go. I knew it was too dangerous."

"It's nothing."

"But it could've been much worse."

"I know." He remembered the feel of Turpin's hand on his knee, the way the man had smiled at him. "But sir..." Anthony took a deep breath and faced him. "It was worth it. I saw her, Mr. Todd."

"Johanna?"

"Yes. She was sitting in the window, looking out. She smiled at me."

"Is she beautiful? Does she have yellow hair" Todd's face and voice was so full of eager longing that Anthony had to swallow hard to push down his own emotion before he could reply.

"Yes sir. She has golden hair. And she's very beautiful—the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Todd motioned Anthony to the chair and dropped onto the floor before him. "Tell me everything."

And Anthony did, omitting nothing, even when the telling made Todd's eyes narrow with anger.

o-o-o-o-o

By the time they joined Mrs. Lovett for the supper she'd insisted on making—which was quite as dreadful as he'd imagined it would be—he was beginning to feel the effects of landing so hard on the ground. She didn't notice that Todd barely ate. She was too busy urging another rock-hard pie on him, and refilling his mug of ale. _That_ helped to ease the various aches a bit, and by the time they climbed the stairs again, he was feeling light-headed from the unaccustomed alcohol.

"Here, boy." Todd helped him ease onto the rough bed, pulling off his shoes and drawing the cover over him.

"Thank you, sir. I'm sure I'll be all right in the morning."

He was almost asleep when he felt Todd settle down behind him, felt Todd's warmth pressing against his back, felt Todd's hand sliding across his hip. Startled to wakefulness, he caught the hand, pulling it away before Todd could discover the instantaneous effect the touch had had upon him.

"No sir."

"Why not?" Todd's chin was resting on his shoulder, words a breath into his ear. He shivered. "Let me, Anthony. You can't deny you want me to."

"No sir. You're..." He didn't want to say it, didn't want to _know_ it, but he forced himself to go on. "You're only doing this because...because you're sorry about what happened to me. Because you feel responsible."

"If we're both willing, does the reason matter?"

And God help him, it _didn't_. In his heart, he knew it was wrong—that he should refuse. But when Todd moved closer and reached for him again, he found he _couldn't_.


	15. Chapter 14

Same old things

Same old things. Nobody here belongs to me…oh wait…yes, they _do_, because I was at Best Buy yesterday almost as soon as they opened, handing over my money and walking out with the two DVD set clutched to my heart. Other than that, though, they're not mine. Obviously no money is being made, at least not by me (_I'm_ handing it over to _them_). Continuing potential spoilers for the play/movie, and warnings for assorted bits of unpleasantness and the occasional m/m sexual situation.

To the folks who've left me comments and added me to their lists, thank you so much! I hope you continue to enjoy this. I've probably said this before, but I feel as if I'm walking a tightrope here, wanting to keep the characters _in_ character, but knowing that if I don't change them at least a little, we're going to end up right back in the bakeshop with all the blood (and with me crying).

Thanks as always to my beta, Miss Becky, who gave me just the verdict…er…reaction I wanted for this part!

o-o-o-o-o

_Fourteen_

Anthony stood at the small window overlooking the street below, thinking about what had happened the night before—Todd's hand on him, pleasuring him; the soft sounds of encouragement Todd had made against his cheek; the brush of lips against his earlobe that was almost a kiss—and was torn between feeling foolishly happy and feeling incredibly guilty. Todd had held him after, and he'd gone to sleep with his face pressed to Todd's shoulder and his arm draped across Todd's chest. But when he'd awakened this morning, he'd found himself alone.

It shouldn't bother him. He shouldn't be worried—shouldn't wonder where Todd had gone so early or why he had chosen to go alone or...

Or be afraid that Todd had left him behind because he regretted what he'd done and was afraid he'd be asked to do more.

He bent to retrieve his boots, wincing as his aches reminded him of his encounter with Bamford. He dropped into the chair to put them on, then started at the sound of the door opening.

"Mr. Todd, sir!"

"Mrs. Lovett sent you a pie for your breakfast. You'd better eat it before it gets cold." Todd didn't look in Anthony's direction as he crossed the room to set the plate on the stove.

"I wondered where you'd gone."

"I went down to the shop for a bit, to think."

Anthony began to pull the bootlaces tight. "If you can think when you're with Mrs. Lovett, you're a far brighter man than I am."

Todd almost smiled. The corners of his mouth twitched briefly, then settled into a half-frown again.

"I believe I should wait at least until tomorrow before I go back to the Judge's house, in case they're watching and—"

"You're not going back." Todd leaned forward and rested his hands on the dresser, bracing himself. "Anthony..." He bent his head, as if in prayer, but Anthony could see his reflection in the mirror, see the hurt and weariness and hopelessness stamped on his face.

"Sir?"

"Son..." Todd seemed to be searching for words. His mouth worked, and his eyes closed briefly, and then he said, "I shouldn't have let you become involved in my problems. I'm grateful for all you've done, but you heard what Bamford said. He meant it. I won't risk you being..." His voice caught. "I don't want anything to happen to you just because you think you have feelings for me and want to help me. You need to go and see London. Be with your friends. Enjoy yourself before your ship sails."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Don't you think you should?"

The wording of Todd's answer told him everything he needed to know. As clearly as if his friend had spoken the other words aloud, Anthony heard Todd saying, "_I think you're the only thing keeping me from going completely mad right now."_

"No sir. I don't." Anthony finished the knots quickly, then rose and went to put a hand on Todd's shoulder, relieved when Todd didn't shrug it away.

"Anthony..."

"What would you do if I left?"

"Break into the house and kill Judge Turpin, perhaps."

"And then you'd be sent back to prison and Johanna would be left alone in the world again. Perhaps she'd even be left with that odious Bamford as her guardian."

Todd shuddered at that.

"I know there's a way to reach her. We'll find it. So please, don't ask me to go until Johanna is safe and you're reunited with her." His fingers tightened briefly, the closest thing to an embrace he could give Todd at that moment. "Now what are we going to do today?"

Todd took a deep breath and straightened, then reached for the box of razors. "Mrs. Lovett says there's a barber in the market every day except Sunday. Italian. Claims to be the best in London."

"Are we going to go see him?"

"Yes." Todd took out two of the razors, set them aside, and closed the box again. "Lucy gave these to me as a wedding present—had them specially made for me. If this barber's as good as he says, he'll recognize their value and offer me a fair price."

"I wish you wouldn't sell them, sir. If you need money, I have—"

"That's _your_ money," he interrupted. "I've taken enough from you already."

Anthony opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. He leaned in front of Todd to retrieve the pie, wrinkling his nose. "Let me just eat this, then..."

Todd caught his arm, and Anthony dropped the plate in surprise. Still not looking at him, Todd stroked his thumb gently across the inside of Anthony's wrist and murmured, "Thank you." Then he abruptly released Anthony, scooped up the box of razors, and went to stand by the door.

Not knowing what else to do, Anthony grabbed the pie and began to nibble at it as they headed down the stairs and toward St. Dunstan's Market.

o-o-o-o-o

The market was busy, loud, noisy, colorful, fascinating, and easily the equal of many of the things Anthony had seen on his travels. He looked eagerly from side to side, taking it all in, pausing only to buy an apple from a cart they passed. It was easy enough to find the Italian. Instead of a bench and baskets of goods like the other vendors, he had a wagon, ornate as something from a Gypsy caravan, with a sort of stage in front of it, both set several feet above the ground. And there was no missing the man himself, with his outrageous bright blue suit and black hair curled foppishly over his ears. As they moved closer, they saw that he was busily and fussily shaving a customer in the middle of the stage, talking loudly, breaking into a bit of song, nodding to the boy who held the rag on which he wiped the soap.

Anthony glanced quickly toward Todd and whispered, "Quite the spectacle."

"He is indeed."

Anthony held out the apple, offering a bite to Todd. As expected, Todd shook his head, his full attention on the barber, until at last there was a break in the flow of customers.

"Excuse me, Signor Pirelli." Todd stopped at the foot of the steps leading onto the stage. "May I have a moment?"

"Si, si." Pirelli gestured, inviting Todd to join him, then inclined his head, as if the better to hear through all the noise. "And how maya I be ofa service to you finea gentlemen today?"

"My name is...Mr. Sweeney Todd." Todd's voice was low, respectful.

"Meester Todd. Si?"

"I'm told you're the finest barber in all of London, so I thought you might be interested in these." He pulled the case from under his arm and held it out.

Pirelli gestured. "To-bee!"

"Yes sir." The boy hurried to take the case from Todd and, bracing it on one forearm, raised the lid. "Cor, ain't them lovely!"

Pirelli was staring at them with an expression that seemed almost shocked. He looked at Todd, then back at the razors, then back at Todd. Just as Anthony was beginning to feel uneasy, he shook himself and said, "Why do you weesha to sell theesea razors?"

"I have no more use for them."

Pirelli gave him one more look, then reached out to snap the case shut and take it from the boy. "I weella give you fifteena pounds for them."

Todd's eyebrows went up. "That's very generous of you, sir."

Pirelli smiled sweetly. "They reminda me of my youth in Roma—ofa the silver in mya sainted patron's shopa, God resta hees soul." He looked skyward and crossed himself with an expansive gesture. He gestured to the boy again. "To-bee, givea Meester Todd fifteena pounds."

"Yes sir." He vanished between the curtains into the wagon, and was back in seconds with three five pound notes. Pirelli took the money and handed it to Todd.

"I thank you, sir."

Pirelli nodded. The man was holding the box of razors to his chest as if they were infinitely precious. "May the Good Lord smile upon you, until we meeta again."

"And you, sir." With a half bow, Todd tucked the money into his pocket and came back down the steps, then set out through the crowd, not looking to see if Anthony was following. Anthony glanced once more at Pirelli, who was staring after Todd with a very odd half-smile, then ran to catch up with his friend.

o-o-o-o-o

"Since there's nothing else we can do, we may as well enjoy the day," Todd said abruptly.

Anthony glanced sideways in surprise. Todd had been silent since leaving the market, head down, as if lost in thought. This was totally unexpected. "Sir?" he said cautiously.

"Enjoy the day. See London. Surely there's someplace you'd like to go."

He considered briefly. "St. Paul's."

"All right." And Todd turned and set off in that direction.

o-o-o-o-o

Whether or not Todd enjoyed the day, Anthony certainly did. They visited St. Paul's, Todd looking around with complete indifference but trailing along behind Anthony as he explored the cathedral. Todd left him, going to wait by the door when he went to light a candle and say a prayer for guidance and for Johanna. Anthony hoped that God would understand his feelings for Todd and would grant his prayers, for _her_ sake.

After leaving St. Paul's, they strolled through the city, stopping whenever something caught their attention. They visited Hyde Park and stopped to buy a pie—a much better pie than Mrs. Lovett's—from a street vendor and sat on a bench to eat. Todd even ate part of his, and several times he actually smiled.

There was only one unpleasant moment. As they turned a corner near the docks, they saw the sailors who had accosted them the morning of their arrival. One of the men nudged the other and whispered something, but when Todd stopped and turned to glare in their direction, they suddenly found other business to attend to. Anthony would've smiled, if the incident hadn't left him wondering how on earth he could sail with those men again when the time came.

More and more, as the hours passed so pleasantly, Anthony wished things could always be the way they were—the way they seemed—today. And he wished he could stop wishing that things would change.

o-o-o-o-o

They almost made it past Mrs. Lovett and up to their room, but she spied them and pulled open the door to her shop before they could quite escape. "Mr. T?"

"Yes." He halted halfway up the steps.

"Frien' o' yours was 'ere lookin' f' y' 'bout a hour ago. I tol' 'im y'd gone out. Mos' likely be back by dark."

Anthony saw the hand on the railing clench, but Todd's voice remained even. "A friend?"

"Yah. That Eye-talian from th' market. Th' barber y' asked about this mornin'. Be a nice lookin' man if 'e 'ad some decent clothes an' a 'aircut. Y'd think, 'im bein' a barber an' all, 'e'd know 'ow t' fix 'is own 'air." She paused for breath, then went on, "Y' didn't say 'e was y' frien'."

"He's not. We conducted some business this morning."

"Ah. Well, 'e said 'e'd be back in a bit. Sh'd I send 'im up when I see 'im?"

"Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Lovett."

The happiness of the day was gone. Anthony waited until the door was closed behind them before he spoke.

"How did he know where to find us? What could he want?"

Todd shook his head. The worried furrow between his eyes was more pronounced than usual. He tossed his coat across the empty chest against the wall and went to retrieve one of the razors he'd kept.

"What should we do, sir?"

Todd flipped the razor open and ran his thumb along the blade. "I can deal with him."

"Sir, you wouldn't..."

"Perhaps you should go visit with Mrs. Lovett for a while." He closed the razor and tucked it into the inner pocket of his heavy vest.

"I'll stay, in case you need help. He _is_ a good deal taller than you."

This time, when Todd smiled it was one of the sort that Anthony hated—the ones that made him look slightly mad. "So was Lewis," he said softly.

o-o-o-o-o

They didn't have long to wait before they heard Mrs. Lovett's cheery voice calling, "Y' c'n go right on up." Anthony half-rose from the chair.

"Sir..."

Todd had been pacing restlessly, but at the sound of the footsteps on the stair, he went still. When the shadowy figure raised a hand to tap on the glass of the door, his voice was steady as he called, "Come in."

The door opened and Pirelli stepped in, bending slightly to pass beneath the frame. He had managed to make his ridiculous costume even more so with the addition of a tall blue hat with a feather and a heavy fur cape.

"Meester Todd."

"Signor Pirelli." Todd inclined his head. "What may I do for you."

"I havea a matter of a personal nature that I weesha to discuss witha you." He flicked a gloved hand toward Anthony. "Een private."

"The boy can stay. I have no secrets from Anthony."

"Are youa sure, Meester Todd?"

"Yes."

"Ah." Pirelli moved to shrug out of the heavy fur and drop it onto the chest atop Todd's coat, then set the hat on top of it. He peeled off his gloves and tucked them inside the crown of the hat, then straightened and turned back to them. He smiled, and, when he spoke again, all traces of the thick Italian accent were gone. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Barker."

Todd face lost all its color, and he took a step backward. Anthony looked from one to the other, then began, "Signor Pirelli..."

"Connor. Davy Connor's the name when it's not professional."

"Mr. Connor…"

He ignored Anthony, still smiling at Todd. "You don't remember me, do you? I know it's been a long time—fifteen years—but I could never forget you. When I saw you in the market today, I couldn't believe my eyes. I _thought_ it was you...and when I saw _them, _I knew_._"

Todd's breathing had gone erratic. Anthony risked a glance toward him, startled by the look on his face. Todd seemed to be barely holding together.

Pirelli gestured toward the small table setting under the slowing window. "I used to sit right there and watch you work and dream that someday I'd be a barber, just like you. And then one day you weren't there any more, and Miss Lucy told me not to come back. Mr. Lovett told me that you'd been sent off. Transported. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Todd made a soft sound. Anthony leaped to his feet and moved between Pirelli—Connor—and Todd, clenching his fists. "If you think you can blackmail Mr. Todd..."

"Blackmail him?" Connor's eyes went wide with shock. "I'd never do _anything_ to hurt Mr. Barker. I owe him my life."

"I don't…"

"My da ran off and left us when I was just a little nipper—ten or eleven—left my poor ma with two kids and no money and no way to take care of us. Mr. Barker got wind of it somehow and hired me to sweep up the hair and do odd jobs around the shop for him. And Mr. Lovett, God rest his soul, he'd give me any pies they had left over at the end of the day to take home to Ma and little Jack."

He turned his attention back to Todd. "I never heard what they said you did, but I knew it was a lie. You were too good a man to ever do anything bad."

Todd blinked and shook his head, staring up at the tall man before him. "Davy?"

"Yes sir."

"You've...grown."

Connor laughed, then crossed the distance between them and leaned down to pull Todd into a hug. "It's good to have you back, sir."

To Anthony's shock, Todd's arms came up to wrap around the man's waist and return the hug. And, for the first time since he'd known the man, he heard Todd really laugh.

o-o-o-o-o

"I should've known you didn't want to be recognized when you gave the wrong name." They were seated on the pallet, Todd leaning back against the wall, Anthony sitting cross-legged, and Connor leaning back on his arms with his long legs stretched out between them. "You escape from that place?"

"Yes."

Connor looked down. "I'm sorry about Miss Lucy. I wish I could've done something to help her."

Todd shook his head, letting Connor know he didn't care to discuss that issue.

"I brought 'em back."

"What?"

"Your razors. They're in my coat. Wouldn't be right for me to take them, not after all you done for us."

Todd's lips parted, and Anthony knew he was going to offer to return the money, but then he hesitated and said something entirely different. "Tell me how my little Davy turned into..." He gestured toward the outfit and curls. "This."

Anthony sat quietly, listening with increasing fascination as they talked. Connor told them how he'd become the barber he'd wanted to be, how he'd known he was among the best but couldn't attract the customers, and how he'd gotten the idea of creating a new identity, that of a flamboyant Italian who had once shaved the Pope. He spoke fondly of Toby, the boy he'd gotten from the workhouse, who helped him the way he'd once helped Todd.

Todd smiled. Todd laughed. And Anthony's heart broke as, for those too-few minutes, he saw flashes of the man Todd had once been.

Connor wisely didn't ask anything about Todd's imprisonment, but, at last, he did ask, "What are you going to do now that you're back?"

"Turpin has my daughter. I want to get her away from him."

"That won't be easy, 'specially since you can't let him know who you are."

Todd looked toward Anthony and raised an eyebrow. Taking it as encouragement, he told Connor the story he'd given both Mrs. Lovett and the Judge. Connor nodded thoughtfully as he spoke, and, when he was finished, said, "That was a good plan. I'm sorry it didn't work." He hesitated, then said quietly, "He's one of my regular customers."

"Turpin?"

"A lot of the lawyers and judges come to me."

"I wish I had _my_ razor to Turpin's throat." And in that instant Benjamin Barker was gone again. Connor saw it too, and the look he gave Anthony was filled with sadness.

"Well," he said with forced cheer, "I couldn't let you do that, but if you'd like to go back to barbering, I'd be glad to have you as a partner. I've got a good business going—more work than I can handle most days. The platform's big enough for two chairs. And you being so dark and quiet would be a good contrast to..." He dropped into the accent again. "Signor Adolpho Pirelli, King of the Barbers, Barber of Kings."

When Todd shook his head, he shrugged and said, "Think about it. The offer's always good. Equal partners, share and share alike."

"I will. Thank you."

"I'd best be going." He pushed himself to his feet and reached down to give Todd a hand up, then wrapped him in another hug. "Remember what I said. And if there's anything I can do…"

"Thank you, Davy."

"Mr. Hope. A pleasure." Connor gave him a bow, retrieved his coat and hat, handed the razors back with a smile, then left. Todd moved slowly to the dresser and set the box down, opening it to replace the other razors, then closing it again.

"When he recognized you, I was afraid…"

"Yes." Todd stumbled back to the pallet and dropped wearily onto it. "I always thought he'd turn out well."

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Anthony…thank you."

"For what, Mr. Todd?"

"For being." Todd hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, then sank back onto the bedding, turned away, and murmured, "Good night."

"Good night, sir." Anthony rose to extinguish the lights, then stood staring out at the city for a long time, thinking.


	16. Chapter 15

Standard disclaimers, and how many clever ways are there to say, "They don't belong to me and I'm not making money from this"

Standard disclaimers, and how many clever ways _are_ there to say, "They don't belong to me and I'm not making money from this"? Even though I've gone AU with this, there still may be spoilers for the play/movie. Continuing warnings for unpleasantness, unhappiness, and angst, and for the occasional m/m sexual situation.

I accidentally discovered how to look at the stats for this and I was amazed at how many folks are hanging in there with me (unless it's just the same few folks reading it over and over and over). A big thank you to _everybody_ who's reading—that let me know I must me doing _something_ right!

Thanks as always to my beta, Miss Becky. She liked this part. I hope y'all do too.

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Fifteen_

Todd's lips thinned and his jaw clenched when Anthony told him where he intended to go and what he intended to do, but, after a moment in which he obviously struggled with his emotions, all he said was, "Do you want me to go along in case there's trouble?"

"There won't be any trouble."

"You'll be careful?"

"Yes sir."

"You swear."

"I swear."

As he started toward the door, Todd caught his arm and stared at him for a long moment, then nodded and let him go.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Luck was with him. Less than twenty minutes after he settled onto a bench where he could watch Turpin's house without being seen, Beadle Bamford came walking down the street from the other direction, knocked, then leaned against one of the columns flanking the door and waited. When at last the door opened and Turpin emerged, he bowed and touched the brim of his hat. Turpin said something to him—something that made him smile effusively and bow again—and then they set off together, back in the direction from which Bamford had come.

Anthony waited until they were almost out of sight, then slipped from the bench and followed them at a safe distance.

o-o-o-o-o-o

He waited outside the Old Bailey for half an hour, and when he was sure Bamford wouldn't be coming out again, alone, he almost ran back to Turpin's house.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Johanna was at the window, just as she'd been on Sunday, sitting motionless in a way that reminded him of her father's stillness, staring out at the sky. He stood on the sidewalk across from the house, hoping, praying, waiting for her to look down and see him.

When she did, she sprang to her feet and began to work almost frantically at the latch of the window. She flung it open and leaned out so far he was half afraid she'd fall. "Cousin Anthony!"

"Johanna."

She gestured toward the walkway leading to the back of the house. "Meet me at the back door. Please?"

She slammed the window shut and was gone. He crossed the street and hurried down the path, the same one he'd taken after being so painfully ejected two days before. To his amazement, she'd been faster and was already there, waiting just inside the doorway.

"Cousin. Oh cousin." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him so tightly he could hardly breathe. "We only have a little time. The cook will be here in half an hour or less."

"We'll talk quickly then."

She released him and stepped back. "I was on the landing when you came. I heard what you said. What they did. I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. And I wasn't hurt."

"I find that hard to believe. I'm familiar with the Beadle's methods." She gave him an appraising look. Once again he was struck by her resemblance to Todd. Even though physically she was more like her mother, the way she looked at him was all Todd.

She tilted her head. "You have a very strange smile on your face."

"You remind me of someone very dear to me."

"My mother?"

"No, I…I never knew your mother."

"Oh." She looked disappointed for a moment, then shook her head. "Of course. You're too young to have known her. I should've realized. It's just…" She reached out to clasp his hands in hers. "I knew nothing about my family…my real family. Judge Turpin refused to tell me anything about them. I didn't even know if they were alive or dead until I overheard what you said to him."

"I'm sorry. That was a terrible thing to hear. If I'd known you were listening..."

"Is it true then? My father was transported and my mother killed herself?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "It's true, but it isn't the whole truth."

"Is the whole truth worse?"

He was able to smile then. "No. Your mother is dead, but your father is no criminal. He's a very good man who was falsely accused and falsely convicted."

"Oh." The breath seemed to rush out of her in that single syllable. "You said he _is_ a good man. He's alive?"

"Yes."

"Do you know him?"

"Very well. I'm honored to call him my friend."

Tears sparkled briefly in her eyes, but she blinked them away. "I'm glad. Even if I never see him again, it makes...everything easier, knowing he's alive and well and not friendless." She glanced around anxiously. "You should go. If he finds out you've been here..."

"Not just yet. I need to know..."

"What, cousin?"

"I need to ask you…are you well? Are you happy?"

She looked up at him, her hands tightening on his, and said carefully, "Judge Turpin has always been very generous to me. I've never wanted for anything."

There was something more, something unspoken. "But…?"

She shook her head.

"Please. If something's wrong, please tell me."

"It's..." She lowered her head. "Sunday…after you…left…he came to my room and told me…" Her voice faltered. "He told me that he has decided to marry me, so I will be protected from…from 'the evils of the world'. As if I'd ever had a _chance_ to be threatened by the world." Her quick flash of anger was also very much like Todd. "He's kept me a prisoner here my entire life. The only 'world' I've ever seen has been from the inside of his carriage, when I was younger. And after I asked him why I couldn't go into the shops with him, he stopped even that altogether."

Anthony was too shocked to speak. The beggar woman had tried to tell him—"_He keeps her snug, he does, all locked up and safe, so nobody but him can talk to her_"—but he hadn't really believed her.

"And when I began to…" She blushed, but lifted her chin proudly and went on. "When I became a woman, everything changed. He has a…a hole in the wall of my bedroom, so he can peep in and spy on me. Watch me. He thinks I don't know, but sometimes I can hear him out in the hallway...making very strange sounds."

It was Anthony's turn to blush. He understood _those_ sounds too well. "Johanna…"

She seemed to remember herself, releasing his hands and taking a step backward. "I'm sorry. You've taken an enormous risk, coming to see me again. I should be welcoming you and asking about the family and your travels and if you're enjoying your visit to London, not burdening you with my troubles. Forgive me."

"No," he said quickly. "I _want_ to know. That's why I'm here. To see if you're...happy." He realized how foolish that last word had been. Obviously, Johanna was far from happy. "And if you're not..."

He hadn't considered how to approach the subject—hadn't really expected to be addressing the issue quite so soon. He shifted from foot to foot, then blurted out, "Do you want me to take you away from him?"

She gasped. "Would you?" The eagerness in the question nearly broke his heart.

"Yes. If that's what you want."

Her face brightened and she threw her arms around his neck again. "Oh please. Please, cousin. Can we go now?"

He hadn't expected _that_ either. "It seems God is answering my prayers a little too enthusiastically," he muttered.

She leaned back. "Cousin?"

A voice in the back of his mind warned him that he should stop. Think. Make plans before he stole her away from Judge Turpin. But then he looked into her face, saw the hope there, and said, "We can. Is there anything you want to take?"

"I have some money hidden away, but beyond that there's nothing I want to take to remind me of my life here. I'll go get it…"

"All right. And Johanna…do you have a dress that's a little less…blue?"

She gave him a dazzling smile. "I'll get the money and change. I'll be quick."

He watched her scampering away, heard her footsteps on the stairs, and wondered what on earth Todd was going to say when he came back not with news of Johanna, but with Johanna herself.

o-o-o-o-o-o

When she returned she was wearing a dark grey dress with a simple skirt that hung to the ground without the sweeping petticoats and had a dark shawl thrown about her shoulders. She handed him a small purse, heavy with coins, and a key.

"If we lock the door behind us, the cook won't know I'm gone."

He nodded and tucked the purse into his pocket, then took her arm. "Are you very sure, Johanna?"

"Oh yes."

He took a deep breath and shoved all misgivings aside and said, "Then let's go."

o-o-o-o-o-o

She didn't even ask where he was taking her, just clung to his arm as they made their way through the streets, trying to avoid the more heavily traveled ones. Anthony felt humbled by her unquestioning trust in him.

As they turned the last corner, Anthony stopped, nodding to the pie shop and the room above. "Is that where we're going?" she whispered.

"Yes. But before we do, there's something I must tell you." He turned to face her, and spoke quickly, trying to get all the words out before she became frightened. "Johanna, I'm not your cousin, but your father is here. He's in that room up there."

She gasped, looking from him to the shop across the street. "My father?"

"Yes."

"He's _there_?"

"Yes."

"Hurry." And she pulled away from him and ran toward the steps.

o-o-o-o-o-o

There was no holding her back. She burst through the door just ahead of him, giving him no time to prepare Todd. He almost ran into her when she stopped just inside the room, staring.

Todd was seated in the battered chair, a book in his hands. He looked up, and went as white as if a ghost had walked in. "Lucy..."

"Father?"

"Mr. Todd, sir, I'm sorry. I didn't have time to…"

Todd wasn't listening. He dropped the book and stood, slowly, carefully, as if moving too quickly would make her vanish. "Johanna?"

She nodded, then glanced sideways at Anthony. There was something uncertain in her expression, as if she suddenly had no idea what to do next. Todd was obviously just as uneasy. He stepped away from the chair and gestured awkwardly. "Would you like to...sit?"

Her earlier eagerness was gone. She edged forward, slipping by Todd, and took the chair. "Thank you."

"I..." Todd cleared his throat and looked helplessly at Anthony, then back at Johanna. "I don't know what to say to you. The last time I saw you, you were a babe in your mother's arms. I was trying to get your attention with a daisy. And then..." He left the sentence unfinished.

She didn't question him. "I don't remember you at all…either of you."

"You were so young."

"Do I look like her? My mother?"

He crossed to the dresser, detouring around the chair, opened a drawer, took out the framed photographs, and held them out. "You're every bit as beautiful as she was. You look just like I always hoped you would."

She opened the frame and sat for a long moment, staring at them, her breath catching as if she were holding back tears. At last she closed it and handed it back. "Thank you."

Anthony stepped forward. "Mr. Todd, sir..."

"Todd?" she whispered. "Is that my name?"

When Todd didn't answer, Anthony said quickly, "Your real name is Barker, but your father can't use that name now."

"Because he's an escaped criminal."

Todd flinched at that.

"No. Yes, but..."

"But he was innocent, so it doesn't matter." She met Todd's eyes as she said the words, and smiled. "And it doesn't matter what my real name is—only that I've met you at last."

"Johanna…" Todd looked pleadingly at Anthony. Anthony realized that he probably had no idea what to do next.

"Sir, I'm sorry we came without warning, but Johanna wanted to get away as quickly as possible. The Judge has threatened to marry her."

Todd's hands curled into fists. "Tell me," he said, his voice gone cold.

"I will."

Johanna began to speak softly, quickly, telling him of her life with Judge Turpin, how he had not mistreated her, but how he had kept her prisoner. She told him everything, and when she was finished, Todd looked at Anthony and said flatly, "You should have let me go and kill him."

"Father!"

"Mr. Todd, sir...Johanna...I think we should pack our things and leave London as quickly as possible."

"You're right." But Todd continued to stand where he was, staring at Johanna, until, at last she stood and stretched out her hands toward him, and smiled. He shifted uncertainly, then took a step forward, his own hands coming up.

Before their hands could touch, there was a clatter of footsteps on the stair and the door to the room was slammed open. A harsh, familiar voice growled, "I thought I might find you here," and Judge Turpin stalked into the room, followed closely by Beadle Bamford.

Todd reeled backward as if he'd been struck, but Turpin didn't even glance in his direction. His full attention was on Anthony.

"Imagine my distress at coming home early with a gift for my beloved Johanna, only to find her missing. I immediately suspected you had abducted her. How fortunate that Bamford followed you on Sunday, so we knew where to look for her."

"Sir, I can explain…"

Turpin made a curt gesture, silencing him, then seized Johanna's arm, dragging her to his side. "There are two armed men waiting for us below. I would prefer to do this without bloodshed, but if that's the only way to save my Johanna, I'll order them to shoot without a second thought, and spare the city the expense of a trial and the deepest cell in Newgate."

Johanna caught her breath, looking from Anthony and Todd to Turpin and the Beadle, and Anthony saw something change in her face, as if she had made a decision. She turned her head to give Todd and Anthony a warning look that was quite the equal of any of her father's commanding glares, then gently pulled her arm free and faced Turpin.

"Sir, wait, please," she said softly. "This is a terrible misunderstanding. The fault is mine, not his."

"Yours?" His brow furrowed.

"Yes sir." She ducked her head slightly and whispered, as if ashamed, "It's true that Cousin Anthony shouldn't have gone against your wishes and come to see me, but he did so want to meet his only cousin. And when I spoke with him…I lied to him. I told him terrible lies, that I was unhappy, that you planned to force me into marriage, that I was afraid of you."

Anthony suddenly realized what she was doing—lying to protect her father. Lying to protect them both. He risked a quick sideways glance at Todd. Todd was immobile, hands still half-raised, staring at the scene in front of him but seemingly without comprehension.

"I begged him to take me away. He didn't want to—he could see how well I had been cared for, how well I had been loved—but I..." She dropped her head even lower. "I cried, and I pleaded, until at last he believed me and agreed."

"Johanna." There was real hurt in Turpin's face now. "Have you really been so unhappy living with me?"

"Oh no, my lord!" She looked up then, biting her lip, managing to look quite embarrassed. "I have been _so_ foolish. When Cousin Anthony brought me here, and he and his friend began to talk with me and question me, they realized…they made _me_ realize...that I wasn't afraid of _you._ I was afraid of _failing_ you."

"Failing me?" Turpin seemed genuinely puzzled now.

"All my life, I've thought of you only as my beloved guardian. The idea of becoming your wife… I have scarcely thought of you _that_ way, sir. I would not have dared. And as your wife, I would have so many more important responsibilities than I do as your ward. It frightened me."

"Child…"

"Is you can just give me a little time—a month, perhaps two—I _know_ I can learn what I need to know and overcome that fear. And..." She ducked her head again. "I know I can learn to love you in that other way. In fact, I have, just a little, for some time now. Let me grow accustomed to the idea of my new role in your life, and then I will be your bride...oh so gladly...if only you can forgive me for my foolishness."

It was a beautiful speech, a beautiful string of lies, and Anthony was awed by her acting skills, for he half believed it himself, even knowing better. Turpin believed it all without question, no doubt because he wanted to so badly. He bent to place a kiss on top of Johanna's head and said gently, "Of course I forgive you, my sweet child. You may have as long as you need."

"Thank you for being so forgiving, my lord." She turned to Todd and Anthony. "Cousin Anthony, Mr. Todd, now I must beg your forgiveness also, for lying to you, for bringing this trouble to your door. I cannot thank you enough for helping me understand the truth."

She leaned forward to kiss Anthony on the cheek, then held out a hand to Todd. He took it, wrapping his fingers tightly around hers for one brief moment before she drew away.

"Please, my lord, don't punish them for my foolishness. They could have done as I asked, and we would be far away by now, but instead they made me see reason. It would distress me so to see my dear cousin imprisoned for helping me."

Turpin considered, narrowing his eyes, but then he looked down into Johanna's smiling face and nodded. "Whatever you wish, my dear. Your happiness is the most important thing in the world to me."

"Thank you, sir. Now…" She lay her hand on Turpin's arm. "Let's go home."

Turpin swept her from the room. Bamford paused in the doorway, giving Anthony an evil smile. "Too bad, pretty boy. I'd have been more than happy to take you to Newgate personally. With a little stop along the way, of course."

Without warning, Todd moved at last, lunging furiously at him.

"Sir!" Anthony caught his arm to stop him before he could attack the Beadle and undo all Johanna had accomplished. With another smile, Bamford quickly swung his walking stick up into the side of Todd's head. Todd staggered, then slumped to the floor.

Anthony swallowed and, as humbly as possible, muttered, "Forgive my friend, sir. He is very…protective of me."

"Ah." Bamford raised an eyebrow knowingly, then touched the end of his stick to the brim of his hat and departed.

Anthony walked to the door, staring down into the street, watching as Bamford joined the group below and they went their separate ways, Turpin and Johanna to a carriage, the others on foot. He waited until they were out of sight, then turned to kneel beside Todd. Suddenly, he was very, very afraid.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Todd came to his senses almost immediately, shaking his head and pushing himself up onto one elbow. As he moved to sit, Anthony saw a thin trickle of blood creeping down the side of his face from a cut on his forehead, and whispered, "Mr. Todd, are you all right?"

"Yes." His voice was flat, his eyes dark and unfocussed. He rolled to his hands and knees, and Anthony stood to help him up.

And then Todd's eyes cleared. And they were utterly, totally mad.

"You let him take her." There was a darkness—a hatred—in Todd's voice that made the words more than an accusation, and worse than anything Todd had ever said to him.

"I had no choice, sir. She wanted—"

"You let him take my _baby_! That bastard. That _monster_. You let him _take_ her!" He spun on his heel and began to pace, movements quick and manic, back and forth across the room, moving with increasing agitation, his breathing ragged, his hands clenching and releasing.

"Sir…" Anthony wanted to catch him and hold him still, but he was afraid to touch Todd at that moment. "They'd have sent you back to Australia. She knew that. She did it to save you."

Todd didn't seem to hear him. "And now _he_ has her again. Do you know what he's going to do to her?" He scooped up a razor as he passed the dresser, flicking it open, waving it in front of him. And then he screamed, a sound a wild animal might make. "Do you have any _idea_ what he's going to do to her?"

"Mr. Todd, sir…"

Before he could lift his hands, before he could move, he was slammed into the wall, and Todd was leaning against him, holding him there, crazed eyes inches from his own, the razor at his throat.

"Tell me, Mr. Hope, have you never wondered how I knew the _real_ reason I was sent away?" Todd's voice was soft now, almost calm, but his eyes…oh God…his eyes…

"I thought…perhaps…"

"I knew because _he_ told me."

"Judge Turpin?"

"Judge Turpin," he sneered. "Two days after I was arrested, Bamford came to the jail and arranged for me to be released into his custody. He told me that Judge Turpin had heard of my plight and wanted to correct this dreadful miscarriage of justice."

Anthony caught his breath.

Todd smiled. It was a terrifying sight. "Ah, I see you recognize the story."

"Sir..."

"He took me to Turpin's house. Turpin was waiting in the library. He spoke so kindly to me that I almost wept. Such a _good_ man, such a _kind_ man, treating me as if I were his equal—as if a barber could be the equal of a judge." There was venom in Todd's voice now. "He told me to sit and he gave me something to drink and he told me he meant to see that I was set free, so I could go back to my wife and child. And then…"

The razor pressed harder against his flesh. Anthony wanted to struggle, to try to push Todd away, but he knew with a dreadful certainty that if he did, Todd would cut his throat without hesitation.

"Then he told me that there would be a _price_ for my freedom. That I had to _do_ something for him." Todd leaned closer, until his words were spilling out against Anthony's lips. "He showed me some drawings in a book he had. I was shocked. I had no idea that men could do such things to each other. And then he told me the price of my freedom. And I thought of Lucy and Johanna…oh God, my precious baby…thought of them left alone to fend for themselves. And I agreed, just like he _knew_ I would."

Anthony felt tears sliding down his cheeks like blood.

"He kept me there all that night, and the next, and the _next_, and he used me every way possible, until I thought I would die of pain and shame. And then _Bamford_ joined us, and _he_ used me too. And when they'd had enough of me, he laughed, and he told me that he'd been watching Lucy for weeks. That he wanted her, but she'd refused him. That he'd had me arrested to free his way to her—that when I was gone, he meant to have her, as he'd had me, by whatever means necessary. And then he told me…"

His voice broke. "Oh God...he told me that after he'd taken her, he would tell her everything I had done—_everything_—and that I had done it willingly."

Mrs. Lovett's words came back then: _She couldn't do nothin' but cry an' say 'ow could you, Ben, over an' over, real sad-like._ And Anthony realized that Turpin had carried out his threat, and the knowledge had driven Lucy Barker mad.

"And then he sent me back to Newgate, and made sure I was put in with men who knew what I'd done and wanted me to do the same for them, over and over and…"

"Mr. Todd..."

"He raped my _wife_. He raped _me_. And now he's going to do the same thing to our _daughter_ and _you didn't let me stop him_!" The last was a shriek. Todd jerked away. The edge of the razor slid across Anthony's shoulder, but he barely felt it.

"_I didn't even get to hug her. My baby—my Johanna—with that monster…_" Todd's voice was a madman's howl now. He whirled, slashing out blindly at the air with the razor. "I'll kill him. I'll hunt him down and kill him, even if they send me back, even if I spend the rest of my life in that hellhole, I'll kill him, I'll kill him!"

He raked his arm across the dresser, sending pitcher, bowl, photos, and razors to the floor, then began to pound his fists against the mirror, again and again until the glass shattered, his screams wordless cries of pain and rage. Anthony stood there, sobbing, afraid to move. Afraid to reach for him. Afraid.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement at the door. Mrs. Lovett, brought up by the noise, staring at Todd and shaking her head. He tried to wave her away, but she stepped in just as Todd spun, and said loudly, "Wot's goin' on 'ere, dearie?"

At the sound of her voice, Todd went deathly still. He turned his head to look at her, and his lips parted and his eyes widened slightly. And then his face went as blank as a slate wiped clean, and he abruptly dropped to his knees, the razor slipping unnoticed from his fingers.

Mrs. Lovett glanced around the room at the damage, then at Todd, and snorted. "Wot a mess y've made. Wot's wrong wi' _'im_?"

"He's…he's not himself." Anthony finally dared to approach him and touch his shoulder and murmur, "Mr. Todd? Sir?"

"I c'n _see_ 'e ain't 'isself. 'e ever been like this before?"

"Not...not this…bad." Todd was shaking now, and a low keening sound was coming from the back of his throat.

"Bring 'im downstairs then, an' I'll pour 'im a nice tumbler o' gin. That'll fix him up right as rain."

"I don't think so, mum. Let me just…" Anthony dropped to the floor beside Todd and hesitantly put his arm around his friend. With one final moan, Todd went limp against him.

Mrs. Lovett went to one knee beside them, staring at him, then at Todd. "Y're not really Lucy's nephew, are y'?

He was too sick at heart to lie anymore. "No mum."

"And Lor' 'elp us, 'e's Benjamin Barker, come back at last, ain't 'e?"

"Yes mum."

She shook her head. "Ah look a' th' poor thing. Th' years ain't been kind t' 'im, 'ave they?"

"No mum."

She stood and dusted her hands on her skirt. "A'right, then, y' get 'im on that bed. I'll fetch wot we need t' get this mess cleaned up. An' get both y' shirts off so I c'n see 'oo's bleedin' where an' fix it."

Anthony glanced down, surprised to see the blood stains on both of them. "Yes mum."

"Go on now. Stop sayin' 'yes mum' an' 'no mum' an' 'op to it."

She bustled away. Anthony staggered to his feet, pulling Todd with him, and managed to move him the short distance to the pallet and ease him back on the covers.

"Mr. Todd, sir? Please. Speak to me."

Todd's eyes were open, but they were frighteningly empty now. Anthony thought even the insanity in them had been better than this. He was uncomfortably reminded of the hours Todd had stood in the rain, of the hours spent in the church, staring, unaware. Once again Todd was lost somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind. And Anthony was so very much afraid that this might be the time he became lost for good.

"'ere." Mrs. Lovett was back, with another pitcher and basin in her hands and a bottle of gin and a glass tucked under her arm. "Le's get you two taken care of first." She set everything down, then plopped down inelegantly beside them, unstoppered the gin, and poured.

"I don't think he can…"

"Ain't for 'im, luv." She handed it to Anthony. "Drink it down now. Y' need it."

He upended the glass and let the gin pour down his throat, coughing at the burn but swallowing until the glass was empty. Mrs. Lovett made a clucking sound of approval, then took it from him and set it aside.

"Get y' shirt off now."

"I'm…"

"Don' argue wi' me, boy." She gave a throaty chuckle. "Always 'oped I'd 'ave y' 'alf naked some day."

"Mrs. Lovett…"

"Oh 'ush y'self." She reached over and began to work the buttons loose. "Y' shouldn' pay no mind t' me. All talk, that's wot I am. I like t' see y' turn all red." She pushed the shirt open and shook her head. "Looks nasty, but ain't too bad."

He turned his head to look at the cut on his shoulder. It was long, but thin, and had almost stopped bleeding. "I'm all right. Mr. Todd…"

"Yah." She glanced toward the still figure beside him. "'e ain't in there, is 'e?"

Anthony lifted one of Todd's hands, wincing at the blood on his knuckles. "He's hurt himself," he said unnecessarily, feeling his throat tighten again.

"Yah. Good thin' y' got that window. I'm goin' t' need th' light to pick th' glass out o' those."

"Let me..."

"Y're in no shape t' be o' any use. Get y'self out o' the way an' le' me take care o' 'im."

Anthony gratefully shifted to lean against the wall and looked away so he wouldn't have to see Todd's vacant, staring eyes. He let his mind drift, vaguely aware of Mrs. Lovett talking to herself under her breath, of the quiet sounds of water splashing and cloth being ripped for bandages.

"Gawd 'elp us!"

She had undone the front of Todd's shirt and was gazing at the scars criss-crossing his body. She looked up at Anthony and he saw that her eyes were sparkling with tears.

"Wot did they do t' 'im down there in bloody Australia?"

"Awful things," he whispered. "Don't let him know you saw..." He stopped at the pitying look on her face. She didn't need to tell him what she was thinking—that there was no guarantee Todd would ever again be sane enough to hear anything.

"'e don't seem t' be 'urt bad. Jus' a couple o' cuts where th' glass got t' 'im." She cleaned and bandaged the wounds, then rebuttoned Todd's shirt and turned her attention to Anthony's shoulder.

Neither of them spoke until she was finished, and then he only said, "Thank you, mum."

"You look after 'im. I'll get th' broom and sweep up this mess."

"Yes mum."

He waited until she was gone, then scooted sideways to lift Todd's head onto his thigh. Todd didn't even blink. He might have been a dead man—even his breathing was so shallow that Anthony had to strain to hear it.

Mrs. Lovett returned with broom and dustpan and set to work. She was quiet for once, sweeping up the debris with quick efficiency, setting the frame and the razors back on the dresser, shaking her head at the state of the mirror.

"I'd say seven years o' bad luck, but 'e's already 'ad 'em, ain't 'e," she muttered. She set the broom aside. "We need t' talk, love."

"Yes mum?"

She glanced at Todd, then jerked her head toward the door. Anthony let Todd slip back to the pallet, then followed her out onto the landing.

"Wot y'gonna do if 'e stays like that?"

"He won't."

"'e didn't even flinch when I took th' glass out o' 'is 'ands. 'e's as gone as 'is poor Lucy, her layin' there in bed, starin' an' moanin' 'bout wot th' Judge did an' something' awful 'er Ben 'ad done, 'til there weren't no choice but t' ship 'er off t' Bedlam."

The thought made Anthony's stomach churn. "I won't send him there."

"Love…"

"Please, mum, I can't…I couldn't…"

"Y' love 'im, don't y'?"

"Yes mum."

"Ah. Don' cry then. I used t' love 'im too. Twixt th' two o' us, we'll take care o' 'im if 'e don' wake up."

He caught her hand and pulled it to his lips. "Thank you, Mrs. Lovett."

This time, _she_ blushed and pulled free. "A'right. Y' keep th' gin. I got a feelin' y' gonna need it 'fore th' night's done. I'll pop in from time t' time t' check on y', t' see if y' need anythin' else."

"Yes mum. Thank you."

Anthony pulled the door shut behind him, then lit a lamp, even though it was only mid-day, then settled back down. He managed to move Todd's limp body between his legs, then leaned back against the wall and let Todd rest against him, head on his shoulder. And then he wrapped his arms around Todd and put his face into the wild dark hair and rocked back and forth, crooning softly and weeping and praying and thinking…if reuniting Todd with Johanna had been the key to Todd learning to live and be happy again, what would losing her like this do to him.

o-o-o-o-o-o

He was grateful for the gin. It dulled his thoughts and even allowed him to doze a bit. Mrs. Lovett came to the door several times, peeking in, waving her fingers at him, then going away again. The light coming through the sloping window changed, then faded, and then went away altogether.

A distant clock had just struck midnight when Todd suddenly jerked and sucked in a deep breath and began to fight against the restraining arms. Anthony tightened his hold, afraid that Todd would hurt himself, and tried to make his voice calm.

"Mr. Todd, sir?"

Todd relaxed immediately. "Anthony?" There was uncertainty in his voice. "Where are we?"

"In the room above the shop, sir."

"I...I don't...I..."

He turned his head, and Anthony could see his profile in the lantern's glow. Todd's eyes seemed clearer, but his face had the look of a man who had been thoroughly shattered and then clumsily put back together again.

"It's all right, sir."

"What happened?" When Anthony didn't answer, he whispered, "Johanna. I thought Johanna was here."

"Yes sir. She was."

"And the Judge...he took her away...and Bamford hit me..."

He was starting to tremble again. Anthony pulled him into a closer his embrace, as if that somehow could keep Todd's sanity intact. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Todd. She told such lies…she wanted to protect you...protect us. I couldn't bear to have her see you hauled away again."

"She's gone...and I'm never going to see her again, am I?"

He didn't know what to say, if it would be better to offer false hope or tell the truth—that Johanna was most likely lost to both of them. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Let me go."

Reluctantly, Anthony released him. He managed to sit, turning sideways to look at Anthony. His eyes went huge and dark again, and he reached out to touch the bloodstain on Anthony's shirt.

"It was an accident," he said quickly.

"I did that to you? Oh God. Oh God…"

Todd was going away again, but this time he didn't scream. Instead, he sank bonelessly sideways, back into Anthony's arms. And then he began to cry.


	17. Chapter 16

Sixteen

None of these characters belong to me; I'm not making any money from this; there may be spoilers for the play/movie; at various times, this story contains unpleasantness, unhappiness, angst, and the occasional m/m sexual situation.

Thank you, Miss Becky, for continued beta-ing and encouragement. A huge thank you to everybody reading this, and another one to the folks who've left such lovely comments—you've made me laugh and you've made me cry and I hope the rest of the story lives up to your expectations. I love you all!

o-o-o-o-o

_Sixteen_

It seemed to Anthony that Todd wept for a very long time, wept hard and, except for the occasional soft, painful gasp for air, wept silently. Anthony could almost feel Todd struggling to control himself, but he was as helpless against his grief as he had been in the grip of his rage.

Anthony shed tears of his own, feeling equally helpless, wishing there were something—anything—that he could say to comfort his friend. He had a dreadful feeling that Todd was releasing fifteen years worth of misery, and that the only thing he could do was wait and hope that when it was over, Todd would be…

Sane.

Anthony held him, stroking his hair, running a hand up and down his back reassuringly, pressing his lips to the hot forehead, even daring to murmur "I love you", until at last Todd shook his head, swallowed hard, and sat up, pulling away from the embrace. Anthony held his breath, afraid of what crazed thing Todd might do next, not relaxing even when all Todd did was whisper, "Anthony?"

"Yes sir?"

"How badly did I hurt you?" His voice was unsteady.

"Hardly at all, sir."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes sir."

"You're all right?"

"Yes sir. And you? Are _you_ all right?"

Todd turned his face Anthony then. Except for the redness and swelling around his eyes, he looked himself again, all traces of the madness gone. Anthony sent up a quick, cautious prayer of thanks.

"I'm…" Todd's brow furrowed. "My hands hurt." He lifted one and stared at the bandage wrapped about it.

"You broke the mirror, sir. You were...not yourself."

"And what did I do to break _you_ while I was not myself?"

"Your razor slipped. You didn't mean to do it."

He shuddered. "I seem to remember screaming."

"Yes sir."

"Did I do anything else?"

"No sir. That's all."

"That was enough, I'll wager." He became very interested in the wrappings about his hands and said softly, "I told you, didn't I."

"Sir?"

"What Turpin did to me."

Anthony wanted to feign ignorance, but he hesitated just a moment too long, and it gave Todd the answer.

"Ah." Todd's mouth twisted briefly. "I hoped I'd imagined that. And Mrs. Lovett was here."

"Yes sir. She took care of your hands."

"Did she hear me? When I told you about Turpin?"

"No sir. I'm sure she didn't."

"But she did recognize me."

"I don't think she'll betray you. She was very kind to both of us."

"I owe her my thanks then. And..." He hesitated. "And Johanna. She told…such lies to save us."

"If it hadn't been for her quick thinking, we'd both be dead or in prison right now."

"My baby. My poor little lamb." Todd's shoulders slumped and he suddenly looked very, very tired.

"Sir, we'll find a way to—"

"No," he interrupted. "No more…not…not..." His head began to droop.

"Would you like to lie down?" Anthony moved quickly, shifting to the side to give Todd room.

Without another word, Todd eased down onto the pallet, folded his hands across his chest to protect them, and closed his eyes. Anthony pulled a blanket over him, then settled down behind him and whispered, "May I, Mr. Todd?"

Todd didn't answer. His breathing had already gone even, his body relaxed. Draping an arm across Todd's chest so that any movement would awaken him, Anthony finally allowed himself to sleep too.

o-o-o-o-o

A movement _did_ waken him sometime later, but it was not what he had expected. Todd was shifting in his sleep, turning, burrowing his face against Anthony's chest and making low sounds of distress. Anthony murmured softly to him until he quieted, then lay there for a long time enjoying the pretense that Todd had turned to him out of love, and not out of need.

o-o-o-o-o

Someone was tapping him gently on the shoulder and whispering, "Dearie?" He jerked awake, automatically reaching for Todd, then looking across him to see Mrs. Lovett half-kneeling on the floor with a bowl in her hand.

"Brought y' some breakfast."

"Thank you, mum." He was slightly embarrassed to have her find him all but entwined with Todd, but she didn't comment on the impropriety of it, just nodded at the still figure in his arms.

"'ow's 'e doin'? 'e come out o' it at all las' night?"

"Yes mum." He carefully freed himself and stood, reaching down to take the bowl and help her to her feet. "Around midnight."

"Poor thing." She shook her head. "Wot 'e's been through's prob'ly enough t' drive anybody 'round th' bend a bit."

"Yes mum."

"I want t' take a look at 'is 'ands. Change th' bandages."

"Maybe you should come back later, when he's—"

"I'm awake."

They both started at the sound of Todd's voice. "Mr. Todd, sir. I'm sorry we woke you."

"It's all right." Todd was moving as slowly as if he were a much older man, straightening, awkwardly pushing himself to a sitting position.

Mrs. Lovett dropped back to the floor beside him. "Welcome 'ome, Ben."

"No. Not Ben." His expression instantly went as harsh and forbidding as his voice. "Benjamin Barker is dead."

She didn't flinch from his anger, just nodded and said mildly, "I'm sorry t' 'ear that, Mr. T, 'cause Ben was a good man. Now if I c'n just 'ave a look at y' 'ands..."

Todd took a deep breath and relaxed and might have muttered, "Sorry," under his breath before he held a hand out for her inspection.

"Not t' worry, love. We all 'ave our bad days, don' we."

Anthony stood behind her and watched over her shoulder as she carefully began to unwrap the bandage. Todd hissed as the dried blood made it stick. She stopped and glanced upward.

"Be a dear an' get me some water so I c'n' soak this loose. There's a pitcher in th' front o' th' shop."

"Yes mum"

When Anthony returned with the water, Mrs. Lovett had moved slightly closer to Todd and was speaking softly to him. He was almost smiling at her, and Anthony was shocked at the stab of jealousy that shot through him.

"Here you are, mum."

There was something knowing in the look she gave him, as if she understood what he'd been feeling. She took the pitcher, set it on the floor beside her and dipped her cloth into the water, then nodded to the pallet beside Todd and said, "Sit wi' us, Mr. Hope."

"Yes mum." He sat, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"I was jus' tellin' Mr. T 'bout th' old days an' 'ow I wished Ben Barker _was_ 'ere so I could say I'm sorry for all th' trouble I caused 'im."

"Mum?"

"I was a young an' silly girl back then. I really did love me poor Albert to distraction, but I 'ave to say, 'e weren't good for much in some departments, if y' know wot I mean."

Anthony felt himself blush. Mrs. Lovett giggled like a schoolgirl. "Ooo, I love it when 'e does that." She looked over at Todd. "I quite like y' boy."

"I couldn't ask for a better friend," Todd agreed quietly.

Before Anthony could thank him, she went on, "Me bein' s' young an' all that...an' Ben bein' such a fine lookin' young man...I 'ad an itch for 'im, I did. Done some things I regretted later, regretted a lot. Always wished I could tell 'im...ah, look at that."

Anthony obediently leaned forward to look.

"It ain't as bad as I thought it was, but 'e's gonna 'ave some scars from a couple o' those."

Todd, who had been staring fixedly at a place just above her shoulder as she worked, snorted, tilted his head, and gave Anthony a meaningful look that was better than a shared laugh.

o-o-o-o-o

"So wot y' gonna do now?" she asked when she was finished and Todd had leaned back against the wall.

"Anthony will be going back to sea soon, when the _Bountiful_ sails, and I—"

"No sir." He hadn't known he was going to say it until the words were out of his mouth, but he suddenly knew it was the right decision—the _only_ decision.

Todd's brow furrowed. "What?"

"I only signed on for the one voyage. I don't _have_ to go back, so I'm not."

"Why? Because you think you're in..." Todd glanced toward Mrs. Lovett, and his voice trailed away.

"Oh don' mind me, love." She waved a hand in the air. "I know 'ow th' lad feels about y'."

Todd opened his mouth to speak, but Anthony interrupted him again. "I can't go back to that ship and work alongside those men again. Not after the things they said. Not after the way those two attacked us." He shook his head. "I can't. There's no telling what they'd do to me."

Todd had no argument for that. "But being a sailor is your life, Anthony," he said quietly.

"If it is—if I decide to go back to sea someday—there will be other ships. And if not..."

They stared at each other until Mrs. Lovett broke in with, "So wot y' gonna do then?"

He shrugged. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

"An' wot about _you_, Mr. T?"

"Davy...Signor Pirelli offered me a place with him. I thought I might try being a barber again."

"Davy? Li'l Davy Connor? _'e's_ that Eye-talian barber?"

"He is indeed, and I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you kept that knowledge to yourself."

She crossed her heart. "Silent as th' grave."

"Then if I can live here..."

"If _we_ can live here?" Anthony turned it into a question.

Mrs. Lovett looked from Anthony to Todd and smiled. "Done. Wot about Johanna?"

Todd shifted his hands on his lap, as if they pained him, and shook his head.

"Y' jus' gonna let that judge 'ave 'er?"

Anthony braced himself for an outburst, but Todd merely shook his head again and said, "What else _can_ we do?"

Anthony wanted to protest, but the hurt in Todd's face stopped him. Instead, he hopped to his feet and said, "Let's see if our breakfast has gone completely cold by now."

o-o-o-o-o

Anthony waited until Mrs. Lovett had gone back downstairs, then sat down beside Todd again. "Are you quite all right now, sir?"

"Yes."

"You…" He hesitated, then whispered, "You frighten me when you…go away like that."

"And not when I'm a raving lunatic and have a razor to your throat?" Todd tried to speak casually, but Anthony could hear the underlying bitterness in his tone.

"You've only done that the one time, sir. When it becomes a habit, then I'm sure that will frighten me as well."

Todd looked at him sharply, then relaxed. "I'm sorry, son." He rubbed the back of a hand across his eyes, then winced. "It's a trick I learned a long time ago. When things were too painful—too unbearable—I'd escape in here." He gestured toward his head. "They couldn't get to me then. Nothing could. I could hide until the bad things were over and it was safe to come back. But…" He shrugged. "I can't always control it now. I wish I could."

"Mr. Todd…"

Todd straightened and abruptly changed the subject. "If we're going to stay here, we need to buy a few things to make it livable."

"Sir?"

"I'd like to sleep in a real bed again. And I suppose I should replace the mirror I broke." He glanced around. "And the pitcher and bowl and God knows what else. At least I have money."

And suddenly Anthony was reminded of the purse Johanna had given him the day before. He went to retrieve it from his coat and held it out to Todd.

"What's that?"

"It's Johanna's. Should I—"

"Get it out of my sight," Todd snapped.

"Yes sir." He hurried over to tuck it into his seabag and, when he turned again, Todd was on his feet.

"I need some fresh air. This is as good a time as any to go shop for what we'll need."

"Yes sir."

He helped Todd into the leather jacket, then pulled his own coat on, and they set out.

o-o-o-o-o

By the end of the week, thanks in part to Mrs. Lovett, the room was _quite_ livable. There was a real bed, with sheets and blankets. There were curtains on the windows. There was a new mirror, much smaller than the original but still serviceable, and a pitcher and basin. There were pegs where they could hang their coats and clothing. There were even a few books that Todd had picked up from one of the bookstalls they'd passed in their walks through the city.

Lying in the bed at night, listening to Todd's even breathing beside him, Anthony thought he could quite happily spend the rest of his life there with Todd, even if they could never be more than friends—spend the rest of his life trying to find the way to erase the shadows from Todd's eyes.

o-o-o-o-o

Mrs. Lovett came hurrying up the stairs carrying a folded piece of paper. "A boy brought this for you, son."

"For me? But…"

"'e's waitin' f'r an answer."

Confused, he broke the seal, unfolded the paper, and quickly read. He must've made some sound, for Todd was on his feet in an instant, moving toward him.

"What is it?"

"It's…it's from Johanna, sir."

Todd froze. "Johanna?"

"Yes sir." Anthony held the letter out for him to take, but he shook his head. "She wants to see me. Judge Turpin has invited me to tea this afternoon. What should I do? Should I go?"

"Don't ask me. Do what you want. It's your life, boy."

"But she's _your_ daughter."

Todd's eyes closed briefly. "Go," he whispered.

o-o-o-o-o

Turpin himself greeted Anthony at the door. "Come in, lad. Welcome." He waved expansively.

"Thank you, my lord."

"I trust this visit will be happier than your last." Turpin escorted him into the parlor and nodded to a chair.

"I hope so, sir. And I'm sorry that I—"

"No, no. Don't apologize. I was in the wrong. You had every right to want to see your cousin." He smiled. "Perhaps you'd like something a bit stronger than tea?"

"No thank you. Tea will be fine."

"That's right. You don't drink." He set the decanter back on the sideboard. "My dear Johanna has reminded me that since you are _her_ family, you'll soon be _my_ family too."

Although _that_ idea made him cringe, Anthony smiled and said, "It does indeed, sir."

"So I'd like to propose that we put aside our previous troubles and begin anew. Perhaps even become friends."

"I'm grateful, sir. Cousin Johanna is almost all the family I have left now."

As if on cue, Johanna appeared in the door. She looked pale, but gave Anthony a smile and held out her hands to him. He leaped to his feet to take them.

"Cousin Anthony. It's good to see you under better circumstances."

"It is indeed."

"Please. Sit down. The maid will be here shortly with tea." She eased onto the sofa, spreading her full skirts out about her. "Are you well?"

"I am. And you?"

"Oh yes. My guardian…I mean, my _intended…_" She managed to look as if she were blushing modestly. "He's taking such good care of me. He's bought me so many new gowns that I fear I shall never be able to wear them all. And he's hired the finest dressmaker in London to sew my wedding dress and my trousseau."

Anthony wasn't sure how to respond to this announcement. There was something subtly false in every word Johanna said, in every movement. He settled for a weak, "I'm glad. I'm sure you'll be a beautiful bride."

Her lips might've gone tight at that, but she nodded her thanks and went on, "We want you to come to the wedding, of course. Judge Turpin suggested that perhaps you could give me away, since I have no…" Her voice caught. "Father. If you'll still be in port, that is."

"I plan to stay in London for a while, and I'd be honored."

She looked genuinely relieved. "There's so much to do. So many things I have to learn to be a proper wife for someone of the Judge's standing." She gave Turpin a sideways smile, and he beamed. "But the very moment I feel I'm ready…"

He leaned over to pat her hand. "I keep telling you, take as long as you need, my dear."

The tea arrived at that moment, and Johanna busied herself with pouring and handing around the cups, then leaned back and went on, "We're going to France for our honeymoon. I've always wanted to see Paris."

"I'm told it's a wonderful city."

"Yes. I'm especially look forward to the opera. And the theater. Do you know, when I was younger, I used to think it would be great fun to act upon the stage. My dolls and I put on many fine performances in my room."

And Anthony understood. She was telling him everything that she could, without saying the actual words, telling him how she had been able to respond so quickly that night, how she was able to pretend to be a loving bride-to-be now, telling him that it _was_ pretense.

"I'm sure you would have made an _excellent_ actress, cousin."

"Yes, but I have a much more important role to play now."

They were silent for a moment, then Johanna abruptly asked, "And how is your friend, Mr. Todd?"

He hesitated, then said honestly, "He was ill, but he's much improved now."

For a heartbeat, a flicker of anxiety crossed her face, but then she caught herself and said blandly, "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope it was nothing serious."

He had no idea how to tell her the truth with Turpin present, so he only nodded and said, "No," and then they went on to talk of other things—inconsequential things—until the tea was finished and it was time to go.


	18. Chapter 17

Seventeen

Still not mine, still not making money, all previous warnings are still in effect (spoilers for the movie/play, unpleasantness, unhappiness, angst, and m/m sexual situations). A huge thank you to my beta, Miss Becky, who caught a number of typos/errors here and saved me from posting this with a character mentioning about BeaTle Bamford. And another big thanks to you lovely folks who are reading, reviewing, and/or putting me on your alerts. It means a lot to me/makes me _so_ happy to think that folks are reading and enjoying this.

o-o-o-o-o

_Seventeen_

As he made his way back to Fleet Street, he thought about Johanna, wishing he could come up with some sort of plan to get her away from Turpin. He was beginning to think he understood why Todd refused to talk about her—it was painful to realize there was nothing more they could do.

Mrs. Lovett was sitting at one of the tables in the yard beside the stairs, talking to the young dark-haired boy from the market. She waved cheerfully at him as he crossed the street.

"Y' got company. Signor _Davy_ Pirelli." She and the boy exchanged a look and a giggle.

Anthony hesitated. "I'm sure he's here to see Mr. Todd. I'll just wait down here until they're through talking."

She shook her head. "'e said t' send you up when y' got back, so go on wi' y'."

"Yes mum."

Todd and Connor were sitting cross-legged in the floor beneath the sloping window. Connor was laughing and Todd was smiling. When they saw him, Connor made a bow and said grandly, "Anda buon giorno to youa, younga Meester Hope." And then Anthony laughed too.

"Come join us, lad, and listen to Davy's plan."

He seated himself beside Todd, and leaned forward. "All right."

"When Mr. Todd's hands are well enough for him to be able to work—"

"And they are," Todd interrupted.

Connor ignored him and went on. "You and Mr. Todd come to the market, and Mr. Todd challenges me to a duel."

Anthony was startled. "A duel?"

"Not _that_ kind. A barbering duel. _He_ says that _he's_ the best barber in London, and _I_ say that _I'm_ the best barber, and so we have a contest. Fastest, cleanest shave wins. We might even ask Beadle Bamford to be the judge, if he's around." He grinned. "Naturally, _I_ have to win, since it's _my_ shop..."

"Naturally," Todd muttered. Anthony was surprised to see genuine amusement on Todd's face.

"We both know who's the better barber, so Mr. Todd will have to lose deliberately, but he'll make it a close thing. I'll be so impressed with his skills that I'll offer to take him on as a partner starting immediately."

"And I, of course, will graciously accept his offer."

"People will be talking about it all over the city afterwards. We'll have more customers than we can handle."

Todd looked at Anthony and raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"Eet eesa brilliant!" Connor answered for him.

And Anthony had to agree that it was.

o-o-o-o-o

After Connor and the boy had gone, Todd turned to him and asked quietly, "How is she?"

"She's very good at pretending to be happy."

Todd's mouth tightened. "Is he at least treating her well?"

"He seems to be. He isn't rushing her into marriage, and she said he's bought her a number of new gowns."

"Maybe she's better off with him," Todd murmured, as if to himself. "I can't give her anything like that. Never could've." He opened the case and took out the first razor, flicking it open, then reaching for the strop to sharpen it.

"I'm sure you'd give her things that are more important. Sir, there has to be some way to—"

"No." Todd gave a quick shake of his head, and the matter was closed again.

o-o-o-o-o

"Are you sure your hands are healed enough for this, Mr. Todd?"

"They're a little stiff, that's all." Todd gave the blade one last check, then tucked the razor into his breast pocket. "Doesn't matter. I'm supposed to _lose_ this contest, remember?"

"Yes sir, but…"

"Are we ready, dearies?" Mrs. Lovett appeared at the door, shawl around her shoulders and purse over her arm.

"Are you going with us, mum?"

She giggled. "Y' jokin'. I wouldn't miss this 'un f'r th' world."

Anthony couldn't blame her. He suspected that the afternoon barbering contest between Signor Pirelli and Mr. Todd was going to be more entertaining than anything even the best theaters had to offer.

o-o-o-o-o

He was right.

They arrived just as Toby was pounding on a drum to attract attention and offering bottles of Pirelli's Miracle Elixir for sale. He gave them a cheeky grin as he tossed a few bottles out for those in the crowd to examine, then continued his spiel.

Todd moved closer to the stage, and leaned insolently upon it. "'King of the Barbers'?" he read, somewhat louder than necessary. "I find that difficult to believe."

"Oh?" Toby set the drum aside and squatted in front of him. "Wot makes y' say that?"

"Because _I'm_ the best barber in London."

Those around them were showing an interest in the exchange, nudging their neighbors, nodding, whispering.

"Wot's y' name?"

"Mr. Sweeney Todd."

"Ain't never 'eard of y'."

"I am only recently returned from a tour of Europe."

"Well, Mr. Sweeney Todd, I'll wager you can't 'old a candle to Signor Pirelli." Toby was on his feet again, rocking back and forth, obviously enjoying this immensely.

"What ees agoing ona here?" Connor flung aside the curtains leading into the wagon and made a dramatic entrance onto the stage.

"This bloke thinks 'e c'n barber better'n you, Signor."

Connor bent slightly, as if to examine Todd, his mouth pursing. "Ees eet true thata you said thees thing, signor?"

"It is." Todd reached into his coat and pulled out the razors. "And I'm willing to prove it."

"Ha!" Connor straightened and spread his arms, inviting the crowd to attend to his words. "Do you heara theesa foolish man? Come, signor. We weela have a contest, and then we weela see who is the besta barber. To-bee!"

Todd shrugged out of the heavy jacket, handed it to Anthony, and headed for the steps as Connor began to order Toby about. No one in the crowd seemed to think it strange that an extra chair, mug, and protective cloth conveniently appeared as if by magic.

"Maya we havea two volunteers?"

Several hands went up. Connor pointed to two men, motioning them onto the stage and into the chairs, then glanced about again. Anthony was close enough to see the corner of his mouth twitch just before he called, "Weela Beadle Bamford bea our judgea?"

Bamford raised his walking stick to touch the brim of his hat. "Of course. Always glad to oblige."

Anthony wanted to slink away as the slimy little man came toward him, but he forced himself to remember that he was in Judge Turpin's good graces now and held his ground. Bamford gave him one appraising glance, then turned his attention back to the stage. He waited until the cloths were in place around the customers' necks and each barber had his mug of soap, then said, "Ready?"

Connor crossed himself. "I ama ready."

"Ready," Todd said softly.

"Begin!"

Anthony felt an elbow dig into his ribs and heard a low-pitched, "Ain't this a show then?"

"It is indeed."

Connor worked with the overblown, theatrical movements Anthony had observed before, waving his arms, singing, blowing kisses to the ladies in the crowd. Todd was quiet, restrained, movements slow and careful. Anthony bit his lip to keep from laughing as he watched the way Todd kept an eye on Connor at all times, to be sure the other man finished first…but only just.

Connor flung his arms wide again, stepped back, and called, "I ama feenished!"

"And the winner is Signor Pirelli!" Bamford announced, to great applause.

Todd removed the last bit of lather from his customer, then bowed. "Signor, I offer my sincerest apology. Your skill is, indeed, far greater than my own."

Connor caught his shoulders. "But you—you are also a greata barber. You are...the _seconda_ best barber in London."

Todd smiled. "You are too kind, Signor."

"Ah!" Connor clapped his hands together as if he'd just had a wonderful idea. "You musta join me!"

"Signor?"

"You musta stay here anda worka weeth me. Becomea my partner. We weela be the two besta barbers in London!"

Todd pretended to think for a moment, then nodded. "It would be my honor, Signor Pirelli."

Connor lapsed into a string of Italian—or pseudo-Italian—seized Todd by the shoulders again, and loudly kissed him on both cheeks before turning to the crowd and, in a voice that must have carried through half the market, announced, "My newa partner, Meester Sweeney Todda!"

This time, the applause was for Todd. He dipped his head quickly in acknowledgement.

"Weela you begin today, sir?"

"Of course."

Connor looked out over the crowd. "Who weela be Meester Todda's first customer?"

"I will."

Anthony was surprised to see Beadle Bamford head toward the stairs. Connor's eyes widened slightly and he threw a quick, anxious glance in Todd's direction, but Todd only smiled and said, "Welcome, sir," and shook out the cloth again.

As soon as he'd assured himself that Todd wasn't going to slit Bamford's throat on stage in front of dozens of passers by, Anthony handed Todd's coat to Toby and, with a nod to his friend, walked away. Mrs. Lovett tucked her hand through his arm and leaned in to mutter, "I ain't been that entertained since th' chapel burned down."

"It was most enlightening." Anthony smiled. "I can see where Johanna gets her theatrical ability."

"Y' ain't gonna say that t' 'im, are y'?"

"No mum. I try not to mention her unless he does. Which is almost never. He's even put away the photos of Lucy and the baby."

"Sad, innit?"

"Yes mum."

"So now that Mr. T's all set, wot _you_ gonna do w' y'self?"

"I thought perhaps…" He stopped and looked down into her face. "I could help you in the pie shop."

o-o-o-o-o

Just cleaning the place took the better part of two days. After that, Anthony took his cue from the late Mr. Lovett and refused to allow Mrs. Lovett to help with the baking at all. He gave her most of his remaining pay from the ship and sent her to the butcher's, then set to work grinding and mixing and adding spices, remembering the way he'd helped his mother make pies years before, until his father had said he was too old for such unmanly pursuits.

When the first batch came out of the little oven and she took a bite, Mrs. Lovett burst into tears. "It tastes jus' like me dear Albert's."

"It's good then?"

She took a second bite. "Ah, son, if y'd been 'ere when 'e passed, th' shop wouldn't be in th' state it is now."

"I thought perhaps we could make up some small pies—ones that are just a bite or two—and give them out to the students from across the way. Let them know how much the pies have improved and they'll come flocking to buy, and tell all their friends."

"Y're talkin' like that Eye-talian now."

"Do you think it'll work?"

"Le's try an' see."

o-o-o-o-o

Business was booming by Saturday evening, when Anthony looked up to see Todd standing in the doorway, staring about himself in obvious surprise.

"Mr. Todd, sir! Come in."

Todd pushed through the crowd to the counter. "You have…customers."

"Yes sir."

Mrs. Lovett breezed by with a tray of pies, held it out and said, "'ave one."

Hesitantly, he took one, holding it gingerly between thumb and forefinger, then bit into it. He looked even more surprised. "It's good."

"Don' gi' me any credit. Th' boy done it all."

Todd gave Anthony a quick nod. "Good work, son."

Anthony flushed with pride. "Thank you, sir. Some ale?" He filled a mug and handed it over. "You're early tonight."

"We've barely stopped all day. Signor Pirelli decided to call it a night." Todd washed the bite of pie down, then took another.

"You must be tired, sir. If you'd like to sit, I'm sure we can find you a place."

"I'll just take this upstairs to finish it, if it's all right."

"Of course, sir. I'll be up later."

Anthony was pleased to see that Todd was still nibbling at the pie as he climbed the stairs.

o-o-o-o-o

"We sold out again." Mrs. Lovett stood staring at the remains scattered on the tables. "If this keeps up, I'm gonna 'ave t' 'ire meself a lad t' 'elp w' th' cleanin'."

"I don't mind..."

She made a shushing motion at him. "You done all th' bakin'. Least I c'n do is take care o' this. Y' go on up an' spend some time wi' Mr. T. Y' ain't seen much o' 'im all week."

"No mum."

"Go on then."

He began to untie the large apron he wore over his clothing. "Thank you, Mrs. Lovett."

"Anthony."

"Yes mum."

"If we're gonna be workin' t'gether and makin' a business, why don't y' call me Nellie."

"Oh no, mum. I couldn't possibly do that. It would be disrespectful."

She sighed. "Could y' at least call me Mrs. L then, like I call 'im Mr. T? Wouldn't make me feel s' old."

"You aren't old at all...Mrs. L."

She went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "I _do_ like y', boy. Now go on."

He hurried up the steps, hoping Todd was still awake and they could spend a few minutes talking about the different successes of the week. Mrs. Lovett had been right; he'd seen very little of Todd since the barbering contest.

Todd was sitting on the edge of the bed, cleaning the razors he'd used that day. "Your pie was good. You and Mrs. Lovett are going to be rich if you keep this up."

"I'm glad I can help her, sir. She's a good lady. And I'm happy to know there's something I can do besides sailing."

"I'd say sailing's a bit more exciting than making pies."

He slid the braces off his shoulders, pulled off his shirt, and hung it carefully from one of the pegs. "Not always. I'd rather roll out dough all day than have to deal with the likes of Lewis."

Todd grunted, then turned the razor to the light, checking it one last time. Satisfied, he stood and crossed the room to put it back in the box with the others. Anthony poured some water into the bowl and splashed his face with it as Todd moved to lower the wick of the lamp.

When he half-turned to reach for the piece of toweling to dry his face, Todd was there, holding it. He froze as Todd lifted the cloth and wiped the droplets of water away.

And then Todd slid a hand behind the back of his neck and pulled him forward and kissed him.

He was too shocked to respond. Too shocked to even think _how_ to respond. He opened his mouth to say something—although he had no idea what—and Todd's tongue slid in, and then tongue and lips began to move against his, and he heard someone moan and knew he had to put an end to this before it was too late.

He took a step backward, breaking the kiss. "Sir..." His voice cracked like a young boy's. "You shouldn't...do that."

Todd's expression was unreadable. "Why not?"

"Because it's...because..."

"You liked it before when I kissed you, on the ship."

"Yes sir, but this is..."

Todd glanced downward, then back up. "And you liked it just then."

He wanted to put his hands in front of himself to conceal his obvious response. "Yes sir, but..."

"Be quiet, Anthony."

And then Todd was kissing him again, and he felt Todd's hands on the buttons of his trousers, undoing them, felt fingers slipping inside. He knew he should refuse. He had _sworn_ to himself that he'd refuse. But at that moment it seemed that Todd wanted to do this as much as he _wanted_ Todd to do it.

He didn't realize tht Todd had turned him and guided him toward the bed until the backs of his knees caught on the edge. Todd slid an arm around his waist to hold him still, then shoved his trousers down, out of the way, then pushed him back onto the bed, falling half on top of him, kissing him and kissing him until he whimpered with need.

And then Todd slid downward, and he felt Todd's mouth on him and he almost came to his senses. "No! No sir!" Letting Todd touch him had been bad enough—_good_ enough, but wrong—but he couldn't allow _that_.

Todd looked up at him, eyes huge and dark and almost smiling, and said simply, "Yes." And then he did.

o-o-o-o-o

Afterwards, Anthony was almost weeping with the pleasure and the guilt. He stared at Todd, watched as he calmly locked the door and extinguished the light, then stripped off his vest and hung it up before returning to the bed.

"Are you going to sleep like that?"

Anthony forced himself to sit up and kick off the rest of his clothing. He didn't normally sleep totally naked, but nothing was normal just then. He looked up at Todd, at the play of the moonlight through the sloping window upon his features, and thought once again that Todd was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. And the most confusing.

"Why?"

"If we're going to live together and share a bed, don't you think we should do this too?"

"But it's not _us_ doing it, it's just _you_. If you'd let _me_..."

Todd was shaking his head to silence him. "I _wanted_ to, Anthony."

"But you don't. You..."

"Believe me. I wanted to."

And then he realized that, unlike every other time Todd had done this for him, there was no sign of distress on Todd's face or in his bearing. It seemed that Todd was telling the truth—he had wanted to, even if Anthony couldn't begin to think _why_.

Todd moved to the other side of the bed and settled in. "Good night, son."

He did the only thing he could. He crawled under the covers and pulled them around him and said quietly, "Good night, Mr. Todd."

o-o-o-o-o

Neither of them spoke of what had happened. Todd woke first, as always, and was shaved and dressed by the time Anthony yawned and rolled over and blushed when he realized that he was naked. If it hadn't been for _that_, Anthony might very well have thought the night before had been nothing but a very good dream.

He spent the rest of the shockingly uneventful day trying very hard not to think about what Todd had done or wonder why he had done it, and tell himself that even if Todd did seem to want to, he was never going to allow it to happen again. And he didn't.

Until that night, when Todd reached for him and reduced him to a dizzying helplessness and pleasured him with both skill and enthusiasm.


	19. Chapter 18

Skipping over the usual disclaimers about ownership and money being made and all the, I need to stress the warnings for the rest of the story, beginning here

Standard disclaimers: I don't own any of these folks, and there is no money being made here, and all that.

Warnings: More than usual unpleasantness, unhappiness, and m/m. sexual activity (a.k.a. slash). Some bits of this and the next two parts aren't very nice, because we're reached the point of the story where some not nice folks have to be dealt with. I apologize in advance.

Thank you to everyone who's reading and everyone who's commented. You make my day! And thank you to Miss Becky for her excellent beta skills. There will be a reward-fic for you when this is done!

o-o-o-o-o

_Eighteen_

"I've been invited back to tea."

Anthony stood in the middle of the pie shop, scowling at the piece of paper in his hand. Mrs. Lovett gave him a poke with her elbow as she passed by.

"Don' y' want t' go? See 'ow Johanna's gettin' along?"

"Yes, but…" He looked helplessly at the things Mrs. Lovett was assembling on the counter—blankets, a pillow, a wicker basket that he knew was full of good things to eat, because he had either made them or bought them, and even a bottle of wine. "I wish he'd invited me some other Sunday."

"Run along an' 'ave a cuppa w' 'em an' then pop on over t' th' park an' join us. We won't eat everythin' right off."

He sighed. "You're right." It _had_ been two weeks, and he _had_ been concerned about Johanna, even though this past week his mind had been _more_ occupied by thoughts of her father. "I'll go up and change into something a bit nicer."

o-o-o-o-o

When he told Todd where he was going, all Todd said was, "Find out if they've set a date for the wedding."

Before he could even say, "Yes sir," Todd was outside and down the stairs and out of sight.

o-o-o-o-o

As before, Turpin greeted him at the door and ushered him into the parlor with a polite, "I'm glad you could join us. Johanna has looked forward to seeing you again."

"Thank you, my lord. I'll be glad to see her again too."

Turpin retrieved the decanter and poured himself a glass. He waved it briefly at Anthony, raising an eyebrow in question, then set it back down when Anthony shook his head. Seating himself, he took a long swallow and then said, "I see that your friend Todd has gone into partnership with Signor Pirelli now."

"Yes sir, he has."

"I gave him a try, and he's very good." He gave Anthony a half-smile that was almost a smirk. "In fact, I intend to give _him_ all my custom now."

"I'm sure he'll be very honored, sir."

"And how are you keeping yourself busy these days, Mr. Hope?"

"I'm working with Mrs. Lovett in the pie shop."

"Oh?" Turpin wrinkled his nose, as if in disgust. "Isn't that rather a strange occupation for a _sailor_?"

Anthony gave Turpin one of his most innocent looks. "Oh yes sir, very much so, but it's only for a little while. As soon as Cousin Johanna is happily wed, I'll be going back to sea."

"Ah." Turpin seemed pleased at this news.

"Cousin Anthony!"

Both men rose to greet her. Turpin put a possessive arm around her shoulder, pulled her to his side, and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. Anthony saw her duck her face to hide the expression of revulsion that skipped across it.

"Isn't she lovely, my sweet Johanna?"

"She is indeed, my lord."

Turpin released her and she took her place on the sofa. "How are you, cousin? Are you enjoying your stay in London?"

"I am." And for the rest of the visit he regaled her with an account of life at the pie shop and stories of some of their regular customers, like the lady who always wore a hat with a large stuffed bird on top. Suspecting that she might be afraid to ask, he also made a point of telling her that Todd was doing well and sharing a few stories about Signor Pirelli. He was glad to see that he was able to make her laugh. He had the feeling that Johanna had never had much laughter in her life.

As he was leaving, he paused on the stoop and took Johanna's hand and asked, "Have you set a date for the happy event?"

Turpin answered for her. "Not yet. My dear child needs a little more time." Turpin had put his arm around her shoulders again, and Anthony saw his fingers tighten on her arm. "But soon."

He smiled and bowed to both of them and took his leave. As he hurried to join his friends in the park, he very much wished there were some way that Johanna could have come with him.

o-o-o-o-o

Mrs. Lovett was leaning back against a tree, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. Connor was sprawled on his stomach, watching as Toby attempted to get an oversize kite airborne, and calling instructions in the thick accent. Todd was sitting beside him, cross-legged, staring ahead as if lost in thought.

"Ah there y' are, dearie!" Mrs. Lovett waved him over. "I wouldn't let 'em touch th' 'amper 'til you got 'ere."

"And I theenka poor To-bee eesa starved halfa to death." Connor grinned and winked.

"Call him in then. I'm ready for more than tea." Anthony tossed his jacket over a tree branch, then joined them on the blanket.

Connor raised his voice. "To-bee!"

Mrs. Lovett smiled fondly at him. "Ain't that Eye-talian quite th' looker when 'e ain't all got up like some fop?"

"He does look very different."

"'ere, Mr. T. Give us a 'and w' all this."

Todd blinked and seemed to come back to himself. Anthony tried to force down the twinge of anxiety that rushed through him at that. He'd hoped Todd no longer had anything to cause him to withdraw into his mind.

"Let me help you, mum."

By the time the contents of the basket were spread out on the blanket, Todd was quite himself again. He took the plate Mrs. Lovett handed him and picked at the food, waiting until Mrs. Lovett was occupied with Connor and Toby, then leaning toward Anthony and murmuring, "How is she?"

"Sad."

He didn't comment. "And the wedding?"

"Turpin's still giving her time."

Todd was visibly relieved at that.

"You didn't tell me Turpin had become your customer."

Before Todd could answer, Connor spoke up. "Scared the hell out of me—excuse me, ma'am—the first time the Judge sat down in his chair." He laughed, but there was something slightly off in the laughter, and in the look he gave Todd. "I thought he was going to slit Turpin's throat right then and there, and wouldn't _that_ have been—"

"I'll 'ave no talk like that while we're eatin' this good food," Mrs. Lovett interrupted, "'specially in front o' th' boy 'ere."

It took a moment for Anthony to realize she was referring to Toby, not him, and by then the conversation had moved on to other, more pleasant things.

o-o-o-o-o

"Here you are, mum."

Mrs. Lovett came up behind him as the familiar, roughly dressed woman took the pie from him, bobbed her thanks, and hurried away. "Y're a kind 'earted boy, Anthony, but y' can't feed ever' poor soul y' meet."

"That's almost exactly what Mr. Todd said to me the day we arrived in London. And about the same woman too."

"Eh?"

He motioned after the retreating figure. "She was on the docks when we arrived, begging for money and…" He blushed slightly. "Begging for money. She seems to keep showing up where we are. She was in front of the Judge's house that night, and now she's started showing up here."

"That's odd, innit?"

"Yes mum. I believe Mr. Todd reminded her of someone, so she may have followed us. I feel very sorry for her."

"I s'pose th' odd pie 'ere an' there won't ruin us, th' way business is."

"No mum. Did you need something?"

"Ale."

He filled a pitcher for her, then went back to work. He had barely taken the next batch of pies out of the oven when something made him look up. Todd was outside, back from the market far earlier than usual for a Wednesday. He started to call a greeting, but even through the glass separating them he could see that Todd's face was dark, closed. He murmured something to Mrs. Lovett, then went quickly up the stairs. Mrs. Lovett stared after him for a moment, frowning, then shook her head and put on a cheery face and made her way back to the counter.

"Why don' y' take th' rest o' th' night off, love? I'll finish up 'ere."

"But I've just..."

She raised a hand to silence him. "Don' argue w' me. Go on. Mr. T needs y'."

Confused and alarmed, he undid his apron and put it aside. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Go."

He hesitated at the top of the steps, surprised to see that, even though Todd had gone up several minutes before, the room was still completely dark. He pushed open the door, stepped across the threshold, and squinted, trying to make his eyes adjust to the gloom.

"Mr. Todd? Do you want me to light a—"

Before he could finish the question, Todd was at his side, pulling him in and reaching past him to shut the door. He heard the click of the key being turned, and then Todd pushed him up against the wall, and Todd's hands were moving swiftly, surely, undoing braces and buttons.

"Mr. Todd!"

Todd dropped to his knees and freed him. His response had been as embarrassingly quick as ever, but before he could apologize, Todd made a low sound of approval at the discovery and he felt Todd's mouth on him, taking him in. He caught his breath, for this was nothing like the slow, gentle way Todd had pleasured him for the past two and a half weeks. This was fast and urgent and somehow needy, and he responded in kind.

When they were finished, he heard Todd make a noise that sounded almost like a sigh of relief, and then the thud of Todd's body sinking back against the wall. Still shaking in the aftermath, Anthony awkwardly buttoned his trousers and slid down to join him.

"Is...is everything all right, sir?"

"It is now. Thank you."

"For what?"

Todd didn't answer, merely pressed his shoulder against Anthony's. They sat like that, listening to the sounds of the happy crowd below, until at last Todd pushed himself to his feet and went to light the lamps.

o-o-o-o-o

The third time he was invited to tea, Anthony spent a good deal of the visit forcing himself to smile and be pleasant, all the while wishing he could wrap his hands around Turpin's throat and strangle the man.

"I've been seeing quite a bit of your friend Todd."

He wondered why Turpin thought he would be interested in this, but he only nodded and said, "Yes sir."

"He's very good at what he does. But then you know that, of course."

"Yes sir, he seems to be an excellent barber."

"Seems to be?" He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "Surely living with such a…talented man, you must have allowed him to…shave you."

Anthony wished that he didn't understand Turpin's meaning or that he could control the color rushing to his face. He shook his head. "No sir."

"Not even once? You're missing a treat, my boy. _Such_ talented hands he has…" Turpin gave him a smug look, as if they shared a secret. "Since I've known _his_ skill, I'd never allow any other barber to touch me."

"Signor Pirelli _does_ say he's the second best barber in London."

"Oh I have no doubt that he could easily...outshave the good Signor if he chose to do so." With one last smile, he changed the subject. "Johanna wanted me to ask you here today so she could share her happy news."

"Sir?"

"We're to be married a week from Saturday."

"I...congratulations, sir." He hoped he sounded sincere.

"Yes, I'm a lucky man. A _very_ lucky man. And here is my sweet bride."

Anthony jumped to his feet and took Johanna's hands. "Cousin. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

They talked of the wedding plans, then the itinerary for the honeymoon, over a tea that only Turpin enjoyed. As he finally rose to leave, Johanna said quickly, "I want to show you my gown. My lord, may I?"

"Of course, my dear." He smiled indulgently and waved them toward the door.

"Judge Turpin can't see it before the wedding of course—it would be bad luck—but I think you'll agree that it's the most beautiful dress ever. It was made by one of the dressmakers to the Queen..."

She chattered away brightly until they reached her room, then turned to Anthony, all traces of happiness gone from her face. "You and Father mustn't try to do anything to stop this."

"Johanna, you can't marry that monster. You have no idea what he's done."

"Oh, I think I have an _idea_." She shuddered. "And that is quite enough."

"There must be something we can—"

"No." Her voice was firm, and, once again, Anthony was reminded how much like her father she was. "I need to know that both of you are well and safe. That's all that matters now." She went up to kiss his cheek. "Now come look at my dress, and let's all pretend to be happy."

o-o-o-o-o

"Well?" Todd was sitting in the chair, cleaning an already spotless razor, when Anthony returned.

Anthony hung his coat on a peg and dropped onto the bed. "It's a week from Saturday."

Todd snapped the blade shut, and his eyes narrowed.

"Sir, she asked me—us—not to...to try to stop it."

"Has she fallen in love with the man, then?" There was something ugly in Todd's voice.

"No sir. She said she needs to know that we're safe."

Todd leaped up and strode over to replace the razor, then crossed the room to lock the door and draw the curtain.

"_I_ need to know that _she_ is safe."

And before Anthony could question him, or tell him about the things Turpin had said, Todd pushed him back on the bed and began to do what he did so well.

o-o-o-o-o

But he was still thinking about Turpin's words two days later, wondering how Turpin seemed to know what Todd did to him alone in their room, and why he had seemed almost amused by the relationship.

"Mrs. L?" The lunch crowd had gone and they were cleaning up the debris left behind, and he thought he could spare a moment to ask _her_ about the thing that disturbed him.

"Wot, love?"

"Does it bother you that I'm…that my feelings for Mr. Todd are…"

"Y' mean that 'e's doin' y' 'most ever' night? No, love, should it?"

He blushed. "Some things the Judge said...hinted at...I know this isn't...right..."

She stopped and put her hands on her hips. "Not right? Tha's nonsense. Y' can't choose who y' fall in love wi', son." She pointed to the photo hung in a prominent position on the wall. "Y' take me an' Albert. I was a real looker when I was young—coulda 'ad my choice o' any o' th' young men, I could, but 'e was th' only one f' me. Old enough t' be m' da, bald, runnin' t' fat even when I first met 'im." Her expression went soft with memory. "But th' minute 'e spoke t' me, I was a goner. 'E was a good man. Kind. Always bringin' me a flower or a trinket or tellin' me 'ow much 'e loved me." She shook her head. "There ain't a day goes by but wot I don't pray 'e never knew I 'ad that foolish thing for Benjamin Barker."

"I love you, Mrs. L. And you still are, you know."

"Wot?"

"A looker."

She laughed and tossed a bit of crust at him. "If I was a few years younger, I'd be tryin' t' steal y' away from y' Mr. T."

"Yes mum." He went back to wiping down the counter. "I wish..."

"Wot, love?"

"I wish there were something we could do for Johanna. Some way to get her away from Turpin. But I think...I think even if we did, no matter how far we ran, he'd find us."

"Um." She set a stack of plates on the table and patted his hand. "Tell y' wot. Why don't y' just' pop on down to th' market an' pick us up a toffee or two. An' stop by an' say 'ello t' Mr. T while y' there. That'll make y'feel better."

He found himself smiling at the thought of seeing Todd so unexpectedly. "Yes mum. If you're sure you can manage here."

"Did it f' years w'out y'. Jus' be sure y' get back 'fore back th' supper rush."

He dusted his hands on the apron, then untied it and draped it across the stool. "Yes mum. I will."

o-o-o-o-o

The market was crowded, and it was slow going, but Anthony didn't mind. He picked up a few toffees, taking one out of the paper and sticking it in his mouth and tucking the others away in a pocket. He could hear Connor's...Pirelli's spiel even before he rounded the corner and saw the barber stall. It was no surprise to see that both of the men on the stage were busy with customers.

But then he realized that the man in Todd's chair was Judge Turpin. And then he saw the way Todd was shaving Turpin...

He froze, staring, shocked beyond the ability to think or act, because in that moment everything about Todd was pure seduction. Every movement...the way he stropped the razor with slow, deliberate strokes...the way he circled Turpin with careful, graceful steps...the way he paused to remove a bit of lather from the blade, wiping it on the sheet covering the Judge in an almost inappropriate spot...the way he was touching Turpin far more than was necessary for a simple shave, fingertips brushing against ear or hair or the nape of the Judge's neck. It was almost like watching a dance.

It was horribly, terribly, _wrongly_ erotic.

Worst of all, Todd was smiling at Turpin, a sensual smile, a smile that was like a lover's promise. Todd had never smiled at _him_ like that. Never. When Turpin said something to him, Todd bent until his mouth was too close to the Judge's. And when he was finished and Turpin handed money to him, their fingers lingered together for more than a heartbeat too long.

Turpin abruptly sat up and pulled the sheet from around his neck, then glanced around, quickly, almost furtively. Anthony ducked out of sight before he could be spotted, leaning back against the wall, his heart pounding. When he dared to look again, Turpin was nowhere in sight.

Instead of calling for the next customer, Todd was putting his things carefully away. He spoke to Connor, who shook his head and looked disapproving but motioned for Toby to come to his side. And then Todd ducked between the curtains and vanished into the wagon.

Something was going on, something not at all right. Being careful not to let Connor or Toby see him, Anthony edged along the wall toward the back of the wagon. There was a space behind, just enough room for him to squeeze in between the wood and the stone wall, and he saw a crack between two of the slats that was at just the right height. Taking a deep breath, he bent slightly and peered inside.

Turpin was pressed against the inside of the wagon not two feet from him, head thrown back, gasping, an expression of ecstasy on his face. And Todd...Todd was on his knees in front of the Judge...and he was...

Anthony bit back a gasp of shock and betrayal. He wanted to close his eyes, to look away, to run, to not have seen and not know...but he couldn't tear his gaze from them as Todd did for Judge Turpin what he had done so often for Anthony in the past few weeks...and with even more enthusiasm. And then Turpin buried a hand in Todd's hair and pulled him closer and moaned and shuddered and arched with release.

"My lord." Todd pushed himself to his feet and reached for a cloth to finish cleaning the Judge.

"Mr. Todd, you truly are a wonder," Turpin purred as Todd tucked him in and rebuttoned the expensive trousers.

"Thank you, my lord." Todd bowed his head slightly, calm, still, giving no indication that he had just...just... "As always, it has been a pleasure to serve you."

"I believe you truly _are_ the best I've ever had, in _all_ that you do."

"You are far too gracious, sir."

"You make me wonder what other _talents_ you could show me, had we the time and place."

Todd gave him a sly smile that promised much. "I daresay you'd have no cause for complaint."

"I think not." He sighed and buttoned up his jacket.

Todd reached forward to brush some dust from his lapel. "I believe congratulations are in order. Anthony tells me that your marriage is less than a fortnight away."

"It is, indeed, although I fear my sweet Johanna will never be able to satisfy me half as well as you."

Anthony saw Todd's hand drop and the fingers clench briefly into a fist, but his face and voice remained silky smooth. "I will very much miss...shaving you after you are married, sir."

Turpin ran a possessive fingertip across Todd's lips. "I see no reason to stop being shaved simply because I'm wed."

"Ah." Todd seemed to brighten. "Then, sir, as a wedding gift for you, perhaps one night before the happy day I could visit you and…demonstrate some of the other talents you are so curious about."

Todd steered him toward the entrance, a hand on his arm, voice lowered so much that Anthony could not hear the rest of the offer. Turpin laughed and nodded agreement, and then Todd ducked out between the curtains. Turpin waited until some signal came, then quickly exited himself.

Anthony pressed his back to the wall as hard as he could and began to edge sideways, away from there, until he could turn the corner and flee.

o-o-o-o-o

He stopped twice to vomit on the way back to the shop, retching into the gutter like some common drunkard, hearing the exclamations of disgust from passers by and not caring. By the time Mrs. Lovett found him curled on the floor in the bakehouse, he was shaking and rocking back and forth and far past tears.

"Sweet Jesus." She dropped beside him and pulled his head onto her lap and began to stroke his hair. "Wot's 'appened? Are y' 'urt?"

He shook his head.

She hissed in a deep breath. "It's Mr. T, ain't it? Is 'e all right?"

"He's _fine_." There was more venom in the word than he'd thought he had in his entire body.

"Oh." Her hand went still.

"The past few weeks he's been so...so...I was beginning to think...I hoped...I wanted him to _care_ about me..."

"'e does, Anthony."

"No mum, he doesn't. He's tried to tell me that he _can't_ love anyone, tried over and over, but I keep forgetting and wishing and letting myself believe..."

"Anthony..."

"Just let me be alone for a bit and then I'll be up to help with the baking."

"No." She patted his shoulder. "I don' think it's gonna 'urt anythin' if we close th' pie shop an' take th' night off."

"You don't need to—"

"'s only one night. I'll put up th' sign. You get up off this cold floor an' run on upstairs."

He wanted to argue with her, but he didn't have the strength at that moment. He curled his legs under him and pushed up to a sitting position. "Thank you, mum."

"Least I c'n do, love."

o-o-o-o-o

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring, wishing he knew how to go away in his mind the way Todd did, so that he could escape from what he'd seen and what he knew. He heard a few disappointed voices from below as the supper crowd came by, and he watched the light through the window turn purple, then fade, and then he heard the footsteps on the stairs. He turned his head away when he heard the door open.

"How come the shop's closed?"

He shrugged.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Todd moving quickly, hanging up his coat, setting his razors on the dresser to be cleaned again, pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his vest, as if there were nothing out of the ordinary, as if he hadn't just destroyed Anthony's world.

And then he came toward Anthony, and reached for him, and Anthony knew what he wanted to do, and the very idea made his stomach churn.

"Don't touch me."

Todd went still, staring at him. He straightened and took several deep breaths, then pulled the chair over to sit where he could look into Anthony's face.

"What's wrong?"

As he'd waited there, he'd thought of and discarded a dozen or more different things to say, from angry accusations to cold hatred, but what came out was, "How long have you been shaving Judge Turpin?"

Todd frowned slightly. "A little over a month, I think. Why?"

A little over a month. It had been just a little over a month ago when Todd had first pushed him back onto the bed and insisted that he be allowed to...

"How long have you been taking him into the back of the wagon?"

Todd flinched and hissed as if in pain. "How did you find out about that? Did Davy tell you?"

That hurt—to realize that Connor had known what was going on all along. "I came to the market today. I _saw_ you—saw you on your knees in front of him, servicing him like a whore."

Todd looked away for a moment, then said softly, "I'm sorry, Anthony. I didn't mean for you to find out. Certainly not like that."

"How long?"

"Two weeks."

"So were you just using me to practice your skills for Turpin?"

Something flashed in the dark eyes. "I don't need to practice _those_ skills, boy," he snapped. "_You_ should know that."

"Then why did you…all the times you…I thought you… Why?"

Todd leaned toward him, and there was an intensity in his whole being that would've frightened Anthony under any other circumstances. "I had to know I could do what I had to without being crippled by fifteen years worth of memories."

"So you used me to..."

Todd didn't give him a chance to finish. A hand came down on his knee, gripping it almost painfully. "Do you think that just because I won't talk about her I never think about Johanna? She's _all_ I think about, every day, every night. She's my _child_.

Sometimes I can't even remember what Lucy looked like, or the sound of her voice, or the way she smiled. Johanna's all I have left of her. I swore I'd find a way to get her away from Turpin, and I swore I'd do anything—_anything_—to make her safe and keep him away from her forever, and if whoring myself to Turpin is what it takes, then I'll whore myself."

"And how does letting him..." He made a crude gesture. "How's _that_ going to help Johanna? What would she say if she knew—"

"That's enough." There was a warning in his voice, but Anthony was too angry to listen.

"He _raped_ you. How can you smile at him and—"

"That's _enough_!" The words burst from Todd with shocking intensity. He was suddenly on his feet, hands clenched at his sides, breathing gone ragged. And Anthony was horribly, uncomfortably, reminded of the day Todd had gone truly mad. "Do you think I _want_ to let him use me? Do you think I _enjoy_ it? The only way I can bear it is by closing my eyes and thinking about you—pretending it's you—knowing I can come home to you and you'll wash the taste of that bastard out of my mouth!"

Anthony stared at him with shocked understanding, his mind whirling, his hurt and betrayal fading at what Todd had said...and what he had not said. Those nights when Todd had taken him so quickly, so urgently...Todd had come home to him needing to be cleansed—had come home to him knowing he'd _find_ what he needed. Had come _home_ to him.

It wasn't the sort of declaration of love he'd hoped for these past weeks, but whether Todd realized it or not, it _was_ a declaration. Because Todd thought of him as _home_.

He swallowed hard, then stood and wrapped his arms around the thin shoulders and whispered, "Tell me your plan. Tell me what I can do."

o-o-o-o-o

After a long moment, Todd's arms came up to return the embrace and Anthony could feel the tension and anger slide away. He turned his head and put his lips against Todd's neck and said, "I love you."

"Anthony…" There was something so broken, so desperate, in his voice that Anthony could hardly bear it. "She's my _baby_."

"I know."

"The wedding's less than a fortnight away. I have to stop it. I'm _going_ to stop it. I knew how I could do it the minute he sat down in my chair."

"How, sir?"

Todd released him, took a deep breath, and told him.


	20. Chapter 19

The usual warnings: Unpleasantness, m/m sexual activity, potential spoilers for the play/movie

The usual warnings: Unpleasantness, m/m sexual activity, potential spoilers for the play/movie. We're very near the end now, so...extra unhappiness warning. I don't own any of these people, only my reinterpretation of them. I'm not making any money from this.

Thank you, Miss Becky, for beta-ing this _three_ times, and thank you, everyone who's reading this, even if you're not commenting. Much as I love reading folks' thoughts and comments, if I get a message from ff saying somebody's set up a Story Alert for this, I don't _have_ to have to have a comment to suspect that they like it. g

_Nineteen_

Todd spoke quietly and without emotion, as if he were not saying unthinkable, unbearable things. "Saturday night I'm going to Turpin's house. I'm going to entertain him—_and_ Bamford—and while they're busy with me, Davy's going to break in and take Johanna away."

Terrible as it was, Anthony knew it would work. If the Judge and his henchman were distracted...distracted _that_ way...it would be easy to take Johanna. But at what cost?

He found himself on the floor without quite knowing how he'd gotten there, head down, feeling very much like he was going to vomit again.

"Anthony." Todd dropped to one knee, reaching out to grab his wrists and pull his hands away from his face. "Don't, son. I need you. Look at me."

He did, but his vision was blurred with tears of pain and rage and frustration.

"There's something you can do for me, if you're willing."

"Yes sir."

Todd hesitated. "Turpin is expecting me to do other things for him. Let _him_ do other things to _me. _More than what I've already done."

"You can't mean to let him...let _them_..." He couldn't even think the words, much less say them aloud. "You _can't_. You..." He let the words fade away, because he knew Todd _could--_and _would_. "_I_ could do it. Why don't you let _me_—"

"No," he snapped, then went on in a softer tone. "For God's sake, Anthony, do you think I'd let _you_ do something like that? I'd never be able to live with myself."

And that was another declaration of sorts, but it gave him small comfort.

"I have to keep them interested for as long as possible, to give Davy time to get Johanna to safety. I have to be able to let them use me without falling apart the way I did on the ship. And without…going away...because if I do that…"

He didn't need to tell Anthony what would happen if he went away into his mind. And he didn't need to remind Anthony that he couldn't always control it.

"I need you to give me something to hold onto, something to keep me sane." Todd's fingers tightened. "Do you understand what I'm asking you to do for me, Anthony?"

He didn't _want_ to understand, but he did. He managed to nod.

"Will you?"

"What would you have done if...if I hadn't...found out?" When Todd looked away, ashamed, he said, "You'd have come home and tried to...seduce me."

"Yes."

"You didn't have to lie to me, Mr. Todd. I love you. If you want something of me, all you have to do is ask."

"I'm sorry, Anthony."

And then Todd pulled him into his arms and held him and let him weep on his shoulder.

o-o-o-o-o

At last he lifted his head and murmured, "I'm all right now."

He wasn't, but he knew he _had_ to be, for Todd.

Todd was staring at him intently. "I know this isn't the best time to ask you to want me, but I've put this off as long as I could because I was afraid, and now I don't _have_ time. Do you think you can?"

He nodded.

Todd stood and went to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. "I have oil." His voice shook ever so slightly.

"Sir..." Anthony reached for the arm of the chair and used it to pull himself to his feet. "I'll...I _will_...whatever you ask...if you'll do one thing for me."

"Anything."

"Do you remember that night on the ship when you let me touch you?"

"Yes."

"Let me do that again. Before…before I do the other."

Todd immediately set down the bottle and pulled off his jacket. "All right. Go tell Mrs. Lovett we won't be down for supper. Tell her I'm tired. And lock the door and shut the curtains when you come back."

o-o-o-o-o

Mrs. Lovett answered his knock instantly, almost as if she'd been waiting at the window. She glanced upward, then back at him. "Is 'e a'right?"

"Yes."

"An' _you_?"

"Yes. Both of us."

She relaxed. "Thank God. I was afraid..."

"You know, don't you?"

"Wot?"

"What he's planning to do."

She didn't even try to lie. "Yes, love. I do."

"You know. Davy knows. Everybody knows but me. Why didn't he tell _me_?"

"'cause 'e knew 'ow much it'd 'urt y'."

"Did he think I'd never find out?"

"'e was gonna tell you afterwards. Some o' it, anyway."

"This is going to destroy him."

"I 'ope not." But she sounded doubtful.

"He sent me to tell you...we won't be down for supper."

She squeezed his arm and said fiercely. "Y' be good to 'im, y' 'ear."

"I will, mum. I love him."

o-o-o-o-o

He stopped halfway up the stairs to untie and unlace his boots so he could kick them off, and to unhook his braces. Then he closed his eyes and sent up a quick prayer and went up the last steps and pushed open the door.

The lamps had been extinguished, but there was a full moon shining through the slanted window, and so there was more than enough light to see. Todd was sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a quilt. When Anthony walked toward him, he pulled his arms out and started to uncover himself, but Anthony stopped him with a quick shake of his head.

He had to do this right—had to make...it if not pleasurable, at least not painful—had to give Todd a good memory. "I wish…" He caught himself.

"What?"

"I wish I were more experienced."

"You don't need experience, Anthony. It's easy enough." Todd's voice was tense, his face tight with anxiety. "The oil's at the foot of the bed. You remember what I told you to do."

"I remember."

"That's all there is to it." He again reached to open the folds of cloth, but Anthony caught his hand and drew it upward and brushed a kiss across the knuckles. Todd seemed startled.

"You said I could touch you first." He sat on the edge of the bed to remove boots and braces, then scooted back to lean against the wall and spread his legs. "Sit here?" He patted the space in front of him. "Please?"

Todd turned and shifted. Anthony reached out to pull Todd back against him, holding him as he had the day Todd had gone mad. When he wrapped his arms around Todd, he wasn't surprised to realize that Todd was trembling.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered.

"I deserve it. _I_ hurt _you_."

He hesitated, then decided to be honest. "You did. But I understand why you did it. And I love you."

"You shouldn't."

"Maybe not, but I do. Now…shhh."

He slid a hand up to Todd's throat and began to caress him gently, keeping his touch as light as possible, stroking shoulder, jaw, mouth, the other shoulder, then moving across the upper chest and starting all over again, over and over and over, until he felt the lean body finally begin to relax against him. Only then did he dip his head and nudge the blanket off one of Todd's shoulders and begin to move his lips across it, back and forth, until a soft exhalation of breath told him he could go further.

He urged Todd to sit up a bit and pushed the blanket down, then put his hands on Todd's shoulders and began to knead at the taut muscles. He tried to remember the ways he had touched Todd on the ship, tried to copy those movements, but this time he dared to let his fingers linger over the terrible scars, let himself bend forward to kiss them and trail his tongue across them.

"Anthony…"

Anthony straightened just enough to get his shirt unbuttoned and off, then drew Todd back against him again, skin to skin, catching his breath at the sensation. He began to explore Todd's chest with one hand, letting the other rest at Todd's waist, walked fingertips across the scars, smoothed up and down, touched first one nipple, then the other, rubbing until they went taut…until Todd dropped his head back and began to make soft sounds of almost-pleasure.

Anthony nuzzled against Todd's neck, just behind his ear, and slowly let his hand drift down across the flat stomach, then lower. He suckled briefly at an earlobe and whispered, "Let me touch you _there_."

Todd's head moved slightly from side to side. Anthony had expected that answer. He remembered all too well what Todd had said—that he couldn't stand to be touched there, and why. He kissed Todd's neck and wished with all his being that there were some way he could erase all those years of pain and hurt and hate and make Todd whole again.

"Yes."

The word was so soft he almost didn't hear it, and then he was too startled to move, until he felt Todd's palm against the back of his hand, pulling it down the last few inches. Afraid to move too quickly, he slowly let his fingers curl and circle, until he was holding Todd the way _he_ liked to be held.

"I've never touched another man like this," he murmured. He knew he was blushing, but this time he didn't care. He slid his hand carefully up and down, learning.

"Anthony, I can't..."

"I know. It's all right."

They stayed like that, touching, being touched, until the church bell chimed the hour and Todd said quietly, "You need to get on with it, son."

He didn't want to. He was afraid everything he'd accomplished would be undone by what Todd wanted him to do. But Todd was pulling away, sitting up, reaching for the oil, reaching for _him_, and frowning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry."

Todd shook his head. "Nothing to be sorry about. Let me see if I can help you."

He moved again, but Anthony was quicker. "No. Let _me_." He slid off the bed and was on the floor and between Todd's spread knees before Todd could react or try to stop him. Taking a deep breath, he bowed his head and did one more thing that he'd wanted to do for weeks.

Todd gasped in shock. Anthony felt a hand skim across the back of his head and thought he was going to be pulled away, but then fingers slid though his hair, stroking, caressing.

"Anthony..."

And Todd's body _did_ respond. Not much—not nearly enough—but Anthony knew it was the first time in too many years that it had responded at _all_, and that knowledge—that sense of power—made him go painfully hard.

He released Todd and crawled onto the bed and smiled into the dark eyes, glad to see that Todd was smiling ever so slightly back at him. And when Todd put the oil into his hand, it was with steady fingers.

o-o-o-o-o

His fear that he would hurt Todd made him clumsy and awkward, but Todd reminded him what to do and reassured him and finally thrust backwards to join them completely. Anthony wrapped an arm around Todd's waist, and now _he_ was the one trembling, shocked at the unbelievable intimacy of their connection.

It was over far too quickly, and then they were on their sides, curled together front to back. He ran his fingers across Todd's hip, and Todd caught his hand and squeezed the fingers and said simply, "Thank you."

He thought he would never be able to move again. It was Todd who reached down for a blanket and pulled it over them, and then they slept.

o-o-o-o-o

The moon was down and it was full dark when he was awakened by a hand caressing him to arousal and a soft voice in his ear saying, "Again."

He blinked sleepily and said, "Yes sir," and did as he was bid.

o-o-o-o-o

Amazingly, Todd was still sleeping soundly when he woke to early morning light. He pushed up carefully, not wanting to wake him, just—foolishly, he knew—wanting to watch him sleep. He had rarely seen Todd as totally relaxed as he was at that moment. His head was turned to the side, lashes dark against his pale cheeks, lips slightly parted, hair mussed even more than usual, the white streak almost seeming to glow against the black waves.

Anthony watched him and thought he would die of love for this man and swore to himself that Johanna _would_ be free of Judge Turpin and reunited with her father.

o-o-o-o-o

When Mrs. Lovett walked in, still yawning, Anthony was already kneading the dough for the day's baking, rolling it between his hands, smoothing it out, rolling it again, then spreading it out. She gave him a look, yawned again, and went to put the kettle on for tea.

"Ever'thin' a'right?"

"Yes mum."

"Ah, y' blushin'." She giggled. "Mus' be _really_ a'right."

He ducked his head and reached for the rolling pin, but he knew the smile on his face told her everything she needed to know.

o-o-o-o-o

And it _was_ all right for the rest of that day, and _that_ night. But on Friday, when Todd came back from the market, Davy and Toby were with him, and Anthony knew the all right was at an end.

"'ere y' go, dearies." Mrs. Lovett set a plate with three of the best pies in the middle of the table, then handed each of them a mug. "Eat 'earty. Me 'n' Toby'll jus' pop off t' th' parlor t' 'ave _our_ supper."

"But I want to _stay_," he protested.

"I saved y' _two_ pies."

He hesitated.

"Love, trust me. We don' wanna know nothin' 'bout wot that lot's up t'. 'sides, y' gonna be _my_ boy f'r a while, remember? C'mon now." She gave them one stern look, then ushered Toby into the back.

Anthony took one of the pies, blew on it to cool it, turned it from side to side, and tried to force himself to take a bite. When he realized that neither Todd nor Connor had touched their food, he gave up the pretense and put it down.

"Tell me what we're going to do."

Todd and Connor exchanged a look, then Todd said firmly, "_You_ aren't to have any part in this."

He'd expected Todd to say that, but in the middle of the day he'd suddenly remembered something and realized he had a trump card. "What if I tell you that I have a key to the door at the back of Turpin's house."

"What?"

"How did you get it?"

He took a sip of ale. "Johanna gave it to me, that day when I took her away. She locked the door behind her when we went out, so it would look as if she were still there, and then she handed me the key. I put it in her purse, and then you said to..." He let that go. "So I put the purse away and forgot about it, until just a few hours ago."

"A key! That's even better!" Connor was grinning from ear to ear. "If we can lock the door like she did, there won't be any sign of someone breaking in. It might even be morning before Turpin goes to check on her and realizes she's gone. Where is it? I'll take it and—"

"No." Anthony shook his head emphatically. "I'm not giving it to you."

"Why not?"

He could see by the deepening furrow between Todd's brows that _he_ knew why, but he answered anyway. "Because _I'm_ going to be the one who goes in for Johanna."

Todd shook his head fiercely. "Absolutely not. It's too risky. What if I'm not able to hold enough of their attention and they hear something?"

"If you can take a risk so can I." He took another sip of the ale and smiled. "Besides, she knows _me_. If a total stranger showed up at her bedroom door, she might scream before she realized he was there to save her. And I know where her bedroom is. She took me there to show me her wedding dress. I could be in and back out with Johanna while Davy was still fumbling with the lock."

Todd's jaw clenched, and his eyes were narrowing, but Anthony refused to back down. "Do you want to tell me the rest of the plan?"

It was Connor who answered. "Mr. Todd's supposed to get there about eight. He's convinced Turpin to give the servants the night off and tell Johanna to stay in her room so they won't be..." He hesitated.

"I know what he's going to do. Go on."

Todd leaned forward. "He's bragged about his collection of art, and I told him I wanted to see it, so I know he'll take me to the library. And I can be sure that's where he'll want to...stay."

Anthony nodded, forced himself to keep his face still.

"There's a window that faces the street. When he and Bamford are there, and the doors are locked, I'm going to ask to lower the lamps. That's the signal. Davy's going to—"

"_I'm_ going to," he said firmly.

Todd sighed and gave a quick nod of assent. "You'll _both_ be watching from across the street. You're to wait at least ten minutes, to make sure I have their undivided attention. And then you go in and take her and get away as quickly as you can."

"With luck, we'll be long gone before he sees that she's missing. I've found a place to take her—someplace safe from Turpin."

"Where?"

Todd raised a hand. "Tell him later. I don't want to know. If I don't know, I can't be made to tell."

_That_ thought made him sick. "How will you know when it's safe to...leave?"

Connor pulled a silver police whistle from his inside pocket. "Nicked it from the Beadle himself last time I shaved him. When we have Johanna, we'll blow on this—a long blast, then a short one, then a long one."

"And afterwards?" He looked from one to the other. "Won't Turpin know we all had something to do with it?"

Todd reached for a pie and began to crumble it, staring intently at the bits of crust falling onto the table. "It won't matter if he does. You and Johanna and Davy will be safe."

"And what about you?"

"It doesn't matter what happens to me."

"It matters to me, sir," he said quietly.

"Anthony..."

And then Anthony knew that Todd believed he was going to die at their hands. And he knew there was nothing he could say or do to stop what was going to happen.

o-o-o-o-o

Todd spent a long time with his razors that night. Anthony lay on the bed and watched as he took out each one in turn, sharpening and cleaning and polishing and examining before returning it to the case, watched as if it were the most important thing in the world. Watched so that he wouldn't have to think.

"After I'm gone to the market in the morning, will you take these to Mrs. Lovett for safekeeping?"

"Yes sir."

"I hope someday she can get them to Johanna. I'll borrow one of Davy's tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

"You know where to meet Davy."

"Yes sir."

"Just before eight."

"Yes sir."

Todd set the last razor in place and shut the box and turned to face him. "Anthony..."

"Yes sir."

And then Todd abruptly turned down the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and came to him, and stripped away his clothing, and pleasured him until he almost forgot that it might be for the last time.

o-o-o-o-o

When he woke, he wasn't at all surprised to find that he was alone.

o-o-o-o-o

"Morning, love." Mrs. Lovett set a hot cup of tea on the counter. "Wot y' got there?"

"Mr. Todd asked me to bring these to you for safekeeping. He hoped..." His voice broke. "He hoped you could give them to Johanna, someday."

"'Course I will." She reached for the case, gasping as it slipped through her fingers and almost fell. "Sorry."

"Wait."

The lid had flipped open, just enough. He took it back from her and set it beside his tea and opened it, frowning.

"Wot?"

"There's only six here. He said..." He shook his head. "He must've changed his mind and taken one along."

Mrs. Lovett lowered her eyes. She snapped the box closed again and turned quickly toward the back of the shop. "I'll jus' go put these up someplace safe."

"Yes mum."

He drank half the tea in one gulp, then reached for his apron and set to work.

o-o-o-o-o

Connor was nothing but another dark shadow in the evening gloom. Anthony wouldn't even have seen him if he hadn't known exactly where to look. He eased down onto the stone wall and stared through the bushes toward the front of Turpin's house.

"You got the key?"

"Yes."

"I left the market early so I could get a carriage for later. It's waiting four blocks that way." He nodded back in the direction Anthony had come, toward the shop. "I paid him triple to stay there 'til we came, however long it was."

Anthony nodded.

"I guess all we got to do now is wait."

o-o-o-o-o

It was torture, sitting there, waiting for Todd to come walking down the street from the market. It was torture when Todd _did_ arrive, torture to watch the Judge greeting him, smiling and placing a possessive hand on his back to urge him into the house. Torture to see the door close behind them. He knew they were too far away, but he could almost imagine that he heard the click of the lock, like a death-knell.

After an eternity had passed, the lights dimmed in the window across from them, and that was the worst torture of all—knowing that Todd was in that room with those men, knowing what they were doing to him.

Connor pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. "Ten minutes."

Anthony clasped his hands together so that Connor wouldn't see how they were shaking and stared at the pavement between his feet and tried to make his mind go blank.

o-o-o-o-o

As they waited, Anthony leaned forward to unlace his boots and slip them off. When Connor raised an eyebrow, he muttered, "I'll be quieter if I go in just my socks."

Connor nodded. And at last he said, "It's time."

Anthony stood and took a deep breath and pulled the key from his pocket. Glancing up and down the street to make sure no one was watching, he hurried across and down the alley.

The door was oiled to perfection and opened without a sound. He crept toward the stairs, moving slowly, cautiously, almost holding his breath. The house was mostly in darkness, the only light at all coming from under the door to...

The library.

He couldn't help himself. He stopped there, just outside, staring at the splinter of light, listening to the noises...the terrible noises...coming from behind the door. And then he bit his lip and forced himself to move on, up the steps, to Johanna's room.

Her door swung open at his touch. She started, whirling toward him, and almost screamed before she recognized him. "Anthony?"

He put a finger to his lips and shook his head, then hurried over to her, bent close, and whispered, "We're leaving. Now."

She didn't question him, just grabbed her shawl from the back of a chair and nodded.

"We're going out the back. We have to be very quiet."

She nodded again.

He carefully pulled her door shut behind them, then took her hand and started back down the stairs.

She paused in front of the library door, tilting her head as the Judge groaned loudly, then looked at Anthony with a question in her face. He jerked his head down the hall and pulled her on. He stopped only long enough to lock the door behind them, then put his arm around her and broke into a trot.

Connor was waiting for them. Anthony all but shoved her into his arms and threw himself down to tug on his boots and quickly relace them.

"I'm Davy Connor, miss." He took her hand and kissed it. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Who are you? What's going on?" She looked from one to the other, bewildered.

"I'm a friend of Mr. Todd's. I've got a carriage. We're all going someplace where you won't be found."

Anthony was on his feet again. "Blow the whistle."

Connor slipped around the corner to be nearer to the house, so there would be no chance Todd would not hear, then gave the signal—long, short, long. He waited a few seconds, then gave the signal again, then dropped the whistle and hurried back.

"This way, Miss Johanna."

They were halfway down the block when Anthony stopped. "Go on."

"Anthony? Aren't you coming with us?"

He'd made his decision early in the day. "I'm not leaving until Mr. Todd comes out and I know he's all right."

Johanna gasped. "Father? You mean..._he's_ in there?"

"Yes."

"Why? What's he doing there?"

As he struggled for a suitable answer, Connor said quickly, "Making sure Turpin and the Beadle won't know you're gone for a while."

Johanna's eyes went huge. "But isn't that...dangerous?"

When neither of them answered, she drew away from them and folded her arms across her chest. "Then I'm not leaving either. Not without him."

"Please, Johanna…"

Even in the faint light from the street lamp, he could see that her face had taken on the stubborn look that was so much like Todd's. "He's my _father_. We can wait here. We won't be seen."

"Miss, you don't understand..."

"No. _You_ don't understand. How could I go off with you and not know if..." She pulled away and went a bit farther, to a bench that was mostly in shadows, and sat down on it. "We'll wait."

Connor looked helplessly at him. "Mr. Todd's not going to be happy about this."

Anthony shrugged, then went to join Johanna. After a moment, Connor followed.

They sat there for what seemed a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. A distant church bell had just chimed the quarter-hour when Johanna turned to him and whispered, "Why did you let my father risk his life to get me out of there?"

"_Let_ him? Johanna, when you get to know your father better..." And please, God, let that happen. "...you'll know that when he intends to do something, he does it."

"I didn't even get to hug him. That night. We were both so afraid...so..."

"It's going to be all right." Please, God, let it be all right. "He feels the same way. Next time you meet, it'll be better."

"What if Judge Turpin comes after us?" She clutched at his hand. "You don't know him. He's not going to let me go so easily. He'll move heaven and earth trying to find me. Am I going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, afraid that he'll... Anthony? What's wrong?"

"Oh God." Suddenly everything came together. Todd's hatred for the Judge. Todd not wanting to know their destination. Todd's certainty that Johanna would be safe once she was away from there. Todd leaving behind his razors...all but one...

"Do you smell...?" Connor had been pacing, down a few steps, then back, but now he was moving toward the corner. Anthony was on his feet and after him even before he saw Connor stop dead and heard his loud, emphatic, "Shit!"

And then he turned the corner and looked down the street, and he saw it too. Smoke was pouring from Turpin's house, and the windows were blazing with flames. As they stood there, frozen in shock, one of them exploded outward.

"No…no…"

And then he began to run, not knowing or caring if the others followed. He had eyes only for the door Todd had gone through...oh God...only a quarter-hour before, willing it to open, praying...

A shocked crowd was beginning to gather, milling about in the street, staring and muttering. The lower part of the house was fully aflame, every window blazing with the unnatural light. It seemed to Anthony that one blazed more fiercely than the rest—the one in which the light had dimmed to tell him it was almost time to act. Anthony feverishly scanned the faces around him, pushing himself rudely through the clumps of people, already knowing the face he most wanted to see was not among them.

He spun and was almost to the front door when a pair of arms closed around him, holding him back.

"Let me go!" He struggled futilely. "Damn you, let me go."

"Anthony, stop." Connor's voice was choked. "It's too late."

And the rational part of his mind _knew_ it was too late, but the rest of him had gone mad with fear and grief...as mad as Todd had gone when...

"Oh God." He felt his legs give way, but Connor had him and was dragging him away from the smoke and heat and death. And then Johanna's arms were around him too, and she was sobbing against both of them, and there was nothing—_nothing_—they could do but cling together and stare at the fire.

"We need to get away from here."

Anthony heard the clatter of hooves and the clang of the fire brigade in the distance, and knew Connor was right, but he couldn't seem to move.

"Come on." Connor began to herd them down the street. "Down here...out of sight." He let them stop at the bench and sink onto it, and began to pace again. "Maybe he got out in time. Maybe he'll be waiting at—"

"I have the key," Anthony said numbly.

"What?"

"He told me to lock the door when we left, remember?"

Connor let out a whistle of breath and once again muttered, "Shit."

"Did you know he was going to...to...?"

"No. I'd have stopped him if I had."

"I don't understand," Johanna whispered. "What did Father _do_?"

"What he always meant to." Anthony's voice caught. "He saved you from Turpin."


	21. Chapter 19a

I notice that for some reason ffnet is repeating the first line of stuff—at least my stuff—at least the last part or two

I notice that for some reason ffnet is repeating the first line of stuff—at least my stuff—at least the last part or two. It's not my fault! I didn't do it!

Disclaimer: I don't own these folks, and I wouldn't sell them to make money if I did.

Warnings: Possible spoilers for movie/play, violence, m/m sexual activity of dubious consent.

Extra warning: Once again, we're backtracking a bit to see certain events from a different perspective. This is another not always pleasant part, so feel free to skip to the very end or to skip it entirely.

Many thanks to Miss Becky for beta-duties above and beyond the call of duty. And an enormous thank you to everyone who's sent me a review. You have no idea how good that makes me feel. We're almost to the end now. I hope you'll all think it was worth the ride.

P.S. Yes, I _know_ I misspelled the title…

o-o-o-o-o

_Nineteen A: Judgement_

A block and a half from the Judge's house, Todd had to stop for a moment. He put a hand on the nearby lamp post for support and stood there taking deep breaths, gathering his resolve and courage. Then he straightened and proceeded down the street.

He very much wanted to look to the side where he knew Anthony and Connor were hidden, but he couldn't allow himself that luxury. Instead, he stepped up to the door, raised the knocker and let it fall, then forced a smile onto his face as the door began to swing open.

"Mr. Todd. Welcome, sir, welcome."

"An honor, my lord."

"The honor is all mine." Turpin's hand was on his back, urging him in and, as always, lingering a bit longer than necessary. "This way."

He heard Turpin shut the door behind him and throw the bolt, and then Turpin was grasping his elbow, escorting him down the short hallway to the library. "I thought we might begin in here."

In spite of himself, he faltered just across the threshold. Everything in the room was hideously, horribly, _exactly_ as he remembered it. His stomach began to churn as he glanced around—the high-backed chairs (he had been sitting _there_ when Turpin had told him the price of his freedom), the table (Turpin had taken the book from it and held it out and ended his innocence), the rows of books (which he now realized all had a similar theme). It was the room he'd seen in his nightmares for the past fifteen years—the room where the _first_ nightmare had taken place.

"Mr. Todd?"

"My apologies, your honor. I was...overwhelmed by the size of your collection." He forced his feet to obey him and carry him forward, forced himself to forget the past and concentrate on the now. He pretended to be busy with the heavy coat, unbuttoning and putting it aside, until he was in control again, then moved toward the shelves. "So many volumes."

"Yes, it's taken half a lifetime to assemble this collection." Turpin beamed like a proud parent anxious to show off a beloved child. "Would you like to see?"

He kept his smile firmly in place and inclined his head and said, "If you would be so good as to allow it, sir."

"Sit." Turpin gestured to a chair. "Something to drink, perhaps?"

"That would be most gracious of you, sir."

When Turpin turned his back to fetch decanter and glasses, Todd closed his eyes briefly, and, as he'd done in every encounter with Turpin, thought of Anthony.

o-o-o-o-o

_It was the first time Judge Turpin had come by the stall since he had joined Connor. Turpin didn't bother to wait in line with the others, but pushed to the front and climbed the few steps just as Todd was wiping the last flecks of lather from a customer._

"_Judgea Turpin!" Connor gave him an elaborate bow. "Eefa you weela geeva me one moment, I weela be feenished and weela bea weetha you."_

_Turpin nodded and turned slightly, as if he were seeing Todd for the first time. "You're young Mr. Hope's friend, are you not? The one who assisted him in enlightening my dear Johanna."_

"_I am indeed, my lord." He wiped the soap from his razor and began to clean it with the rag hanging from his belt. _

"_I owe you my thanks for that. She has been most compliant since her return."_

_His hand tightened so quickly that he almost cut himself on the blade._

"_So you're working with Signor Pirelli now."_

"_Yes sir. He has been kind enough to take me on as his assistant."_

"_He eesa the second besta barber eena London," Connor put in. "We hada the contest."_

"_Yes, I did hear something about that from one of the other judges." He raised an eyebrow. "Since you're occupied at the moment, perhaps I should give the second best barber a try today."_

_And in that instant, Todd suddenly knew the way to save Johanna from this man. He smiled and let his eyelids go half-closed and said smoothly, "I would be most pleased, sir, if you would…give me a try. Serving you would be the greatest of pleasures."_

_And yes, just as he'd expected, there was the flash of interest on the other man's face._

_When Turpin hesitated slightly, he gestured toward the chair and murmured, "Please, sir. Sit."_

_As he flipped the sheet around Turpin, he made sure to let his fingers stroke across the nape of the man's neck as he tucked it in. And as he applied the lather and stropped the razor and began the shave, he made his movements slow, careful, sensual. _

_And when Turpin looked up at him, he saw in the Judge's eyes exactly what he had known he would see._

_Turpin seemed reluctant to stand when he was finished. "Thank you, Mr. Todd. I don't believe I've ever had a more…pleasurable shave."_

"_My intent is always to…please, my lord."_

_When Turpin put the coin in his hand, he stroked a fingertip across Todd's palm. Todd gave him a knowing smile, and watched as he descended the steps and strode away._

_Connor leaned toward him and murmured, "Exactly what are you playing at, my friend?"_

"_I know how to free Johanna."_

"_You don't mean to..."_

"_If that's what it takes." He turned away to welcome another customer into his chair and continued with the day's business, but he couldn't help thinking...wondering if he __**would**__ be able to do what was necessary. And then he realized there was a way to find out._

_That night he waited until Anthony came up from the shop, waited until Anthony was half-naked and blinded by the water in his eyes, and then wiped his face dry and kissed him._

_Todd knew Anthony would respond, and he was not disappointed. Before Anthony really knew was happening, he was on his back on the bed, trousers down around his knees, making low, breathless sounds and arching into each touch. He tried to protest one last time when Todd slid down and dropped to his knees, but all it took was a single word and the boy was compliant._

_Kneeling there, pleasuring Anthony, Todd was suddenly and deeply shocked to realize that for the first time in his life doing this was not wholly unpleasant. For the first time in his life, someone else's pleasure __**mattered**__ to him, mattered very much._

_And when next he reached for Anthony, it truly __**was**__ because he wanted to…for both of them._

o-o-o-o-o

"Here you are, Mr. Todd."

"Thank you." He took the glass, inhaled deeply of the aroma, and then sipped.

Turpin stepped over and ran a hand along a section of books. "And what would you like to see first?"

"I leave it to your discretion, sir."

"Ah. Then..." Turpin pulled a volume off the shelf—thankfully, not the same one he had shown Todd fifteen years ago—opened it, and flipped through the pages. "You might find _this_ enlightening."

Todd set his glass down and took the book, being sure his knuckles grazed along the Judge's hand as he did. He gave the man a lazy smile, then looked down at the drawings. His eyebrows rose. "These are _very_…enlightening, indeed."

Turpin leaned over his shoulder to point to one of the more extreme images. "I've always thought this was a physical impossibility."

"Difficult, at least," he agreed, turning the page. "This one, however…" He smiled again. "Is something I'm _quite_ familiar with, if you would be interested."

Turpin caught his breath. "I would indeed."

"Of course…" He ran a fingertip across the image. "We will need a third. Is Beadle Bamford joining us this evening?"

"He is. He's just checking the doors, to make sure we won't be disturbed."

"The servants?"

"Have all been given the night off by their generous employer."

"Excellent." He retrieved the glass for another sip of the liquor. "And your ward?"

"I've ordered her to stay in her room."

"Ah. I trust she is an obedient child."

"Very, since her meeting with you and her cousin."

"I'm glad we were able to be of…service to you." He turned his attention back to the book.

o-o-o-o-o

_It took another two and a half weeks and almost a dozen more shaves laced with seductive touches and sexual innuendo before Turpin took the bait. Todd was wiping away the last bit of lather when Turpin suddenly caught his wrist._

"_Barber," he said in a tone that was almost a purr, "do you have any idea what sort of problem you're causing for me?" _

_Todd saw Turpin's hand move under the covering, obviously touching himself. He tried to make his eyes as wide and innocent as Anthony's so often were. _

"_It has never been my intent to inconvenience you, my lord." He lay a hand on the Judge's shoulder. "If I've done so, then you must allow me to…make amends. I'm sure that if you'll join me for a moment inside the wagon, I can provide a…more than adequate solution to your problem."_

_Turpin looked around, then surged to his feet and pulled the sheet off with one quick movement and ducked between the curtains. Todd gave Connor a meaningful look. He shook his head, but said only, "To-bee. Comea stay weetha me."_

_Todd took a deep breath, pasted a smile on his face, and followed the Judge._

_Thinking about Anthony was the only thing that allowed him to do what he did and pretend to be glad to do it. As soon as Turpin was out of sight, he flung himself back into the wagon and vomited helplessly into the chamberpot Connor kept there, vomited until he was lightheaded and his throat was raw. _

_He sat on the floor, panting, wiping the back of a hand across his mouth, and was startled to realize that what he wanted most in the world at that moment was Anthony. He wanted Anthony—he __**needed**__ Anthony—needed the boy to cleanse the foul aftertaste of Judge Turpin from his mouth and his soul._

_And later that evening, Anthony gave him exactly what he needed, and more._

o-o-o-o-o

Turpin moved closer, pressing against his shoulder, and he could feel that Turpin was more than ready to begin the evening's entertainment. He brought one hand up and casually stroked down the bulge. Turpin caught his breath.

"I'd like to drag you down to the floor and have you right now," he growled.

Todd shook his head and pursed his lips. "I'm sure you have to wish to hurry this, my lord. You know that anticipation is quite often as thrilling as the actual doing."

For a moment, he thought Turpin _was_ going to grab him, but then there was a sound at the door, and the Judge straightened. "Ah, Bamford. Everything's secured?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. Come in. Be sure to lock the door behind you."

"Of course, my lord."

"You remember Mr. Todd from our visit to Fleet Street."

"I do indeed, my lord, and I also had the privilege of presiding over the contest between Mr. Todd and Signor Pirelli." He bowed to the Judge as he joined them.

Todd almost frowned, but caught himself in time. Bamford had already put his hat and coat aside, but he was still carrying his vicious walking stick. Todd was too aware of the weapon; the memory was too sharp—how Bamford had used that stick, here in this very room. It had to be dealt with, and immediately, before Bamford decided he wanted to use it that way again.

"Gentlemen..." He set the book on the table, rose, and turned to face them. "I cannot tell you how flattered I am that you have agreed to allow me to be of service to you tonight." He took a step forward and caressed Bamford's cheek, then let his hand slide down to take the stick from him. "Interesting." He caressed the knobbed end suggestively as he flicked it, making it expand to its full length. "Ah. _Very_ interesting."

"Mr. Todd…"

Turpin was reaching for him, but he wasn't ready to allow that. He was in charge of the situation for now, and he intended to remain in charge for as long as possible. He managed to avoid the grasping hand, turning toward the closest of the lamps.

"My lord, may I lower the lights? I find that shadows are more conductive to satisfactory relations."

Without waiting for an answer, he moved from one lamp to the next, turning down the wicks as much as he dared, throwing the room into semi-darkness. He pretended to check the curtains, to be sure they were drawn, and took courage in the knowledge that his friends were out there, watching, waiting for the signal he had just given.

He leaned the stick against the window casement and faced them. Ten minutes. He had ten minutes in which to make sure that Turpin and Bamford were so interested in him that they wouldn't be aware of anything else.

"Shall we begin?"

From the way they were staring at him as he came toward them, he suspected it wouldn't take even half that time.

o-o-o-o-o

_It hurt, knowing Anthony had seen him with the Judge; he was surprised at how __**much**__ it hurt. And it hurt in a different way to know that Anthony loved him enough to understand and forgive him and agree to do whatever he asked. _

_And oh, how it hurt when Anthony touched him, everywhere, even __**there**__, and it did __**not **__hurt...that Anthony made his body respond even a little for the first time since Evan and his friends had taught it __**not**__ to...that Anthony was careful and clumsy and gentle and afraid, and that this, too, was not wholly unpleasant. _

_When he woke after only a few hours sleep, woke to the realization that he __**wanted**__ Anthony to touch him again...that was, perhaps, the worst hurt of all, because it hinted of things that could never be._

_Afterwards, when Anthony was snoring lightly against his shoulder, he swore to himself that if he were still alive when this was over, he'd try to be what the boy wanted._

o-o-o-o-o

_None of them knew his real plan, because none of them would have agreed to it. They made their preparations to spirit Johanna away, and he nodded and gave them advice, knowing all the while that it would not be necessary._

_Mrs. Lovett caught him at the foot of the steps as he was leaving for the market, and something in her eyes told him that __**she**__ suspected what he meant to do, even if they didn't. "Y' off then?"_

"_I am."_

_She bit her lip, and he waited for her to try to talk him out of it, but all she said was, "You be careful. Don' y' __**dare**__ get y'self killed. I don' wanna have t' deal w' that boy o' yours if y' do."_

_And then she went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and before he could even thank her, she was gone._

o-o-o-o-o

"Beadle Bamford, sir." He waved Bamford to the chair he had recently vacated. "I trust you'll have no objections if I give my attention to Judge Turpin first."

"No...none at all." Bamford dropped into the chair.

"And you, my lord." He was very close to Turpin now. "Do _you_ object to...performing for an audience?"

The expression on Turpin's face answered for him.

"Then if I may..." He lifted his hands to Turpin's tie, pulling the folds of the bow loose, then drawing it slowly from around his neck, watching Turpin's nostrils flare as he tossed it to the side and moved on to the shirt buttons.

"You've always been so...dressed, sir," he purred. "I'd like to see a little more of you tonight."

Turpin hissed. His arms shot around Todd in a parody of an embrace, his hands dropping to clasp Todd's buttocks and pull Todd against him. "I want—"

"And you _shall_ have it, sir, anything and everything you want, all in good time," he interrupted.

Turpin's fingers flexed, digging into the flesh, kneading. He allowed it for a moment, using the time to finish undoing the shirt and pushing it open, then shook his head and repeated, "All in good time."

Turpin's body was pale, a bit fleshy around the middle, with a scattering of silver hair across his chest. There was nothing attractive about it. Nothing desirable. So unlike...

He wouldn't let himself finish that thought. He bent forward and put his mouth to a nipple and sucked lightly, using only a hint of teeth, until Turpin groaned. "Todd..."

"Yes, my lord?"

"You're killing me."

For the first time all night, his smile was genuine. "Yes, my lord. That _is_ my intent."

He took his time unhooking Turpin's braces, and teased at the buttons of his trousers until Turpin made a strangled sound and shoved his hands away and ripped them open himself. He made a sound of reproof.

"You are too hasty, sir." He held Turpin's eyes as he peeled the fabric back, movements sure and deliberate, then pushed them down...almost enough.

He glanced quickly toward Bamford. The man was staring at them intently, piggy eyes wide and unblinking, mouth hanging open, one hand on the front of his own trousers, rubbing at his crotch.

"Mr. Todd..." There was almost a threat in Turpin's voice now.

"At your command, my lord."

He dropped to one knee and reached in to slip Turpin free. Turpin was so ready that Todd feared he would explode at the first touch, so he continued to delay, lifting, stroking, flicking his tongue out to tease, until, with a groan, Turpin shoved a hand into his hair and pulled him forward.

Todd did what was expected, but only for a moment before he drew back and shook his head and murmured, "Surely you don't want to finish like _this_, m'lord, when there are so many other _options_."

Turpin was breathing heavily. "I have begun to think that you must have been a whore before you became a barber."

He almost laughed at the irony. "Oh no, my lord. I've never taken so much as a farthing for doing this."

"You're a damned skilled amateur then."

"I've had many opportunities to practice." He stood and nodded to the chair beside Bamford's. "If you'll be so good as to sit there, I'll be able to give _both_ of you my attention."

And both chairs had their backs—their very high backs—to the door.

Turpin shoved his trousers down past his hips before he dropped into the chair. And while he was yanking them down his legs to kick them completely off, Todd reluctantly turned to Bamford.

He'd known that most likely he'd have to service Bamford in some way, and he'd thought himself ready. But he found it took all his strength to ask, "Beadle Bamford, will you allow me?" as he pressed the heel of his hand against Bamford's erection. Bamford threw his head back and wheezed.

"Sir, sir..." he chided gently. "You are both too eager. The pleasure will be over before it's truly begun."

He undid the fastenings of Bamford's trousers, taking even more time than he had with the Judge, dreading the moment when he would have to touch the man.

"Damn you, Todd, I've waited long enough."

Turpin was reaching for him again...and just at that moment he thought he heard a faint sound from the hallway, the creak of wood as if someone had stepped on it.

"As you wish, my lord." He reached into the pocket of his vest. "I've brought oil to ease your way."

"Excellent." Turpin threw a pillow to the floor to cushion his knees, kicked it into place behind Todd, then dropped onto it in the position he wanted. He grabbed the oil from Todd and made a curt gesture.

"Take care of Bamford."

Todd found that he couldn't give them a reply, not even a smile. All he could do was nod and turn toward the Beadle as Turpin had reached around him to fumble with his trousers.

"Allow me, sir." Fighting to remain in control—control of the situation; control of himself—he undid his trousers and let the waistband slip down below his buttocks. He couldn't help flinching when Turpin laid a hand on the bare skin.

"And what's this?" The Judge ran his hand back and forth across the flesh. "Are these...scars, sir?"

He couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. He'd thought—hoped—that with the light so dim Turpin wouldn't notice them.

"Have I discovered a secret vice, Mr. Todd?" Turpin chuckled. "Is it possible that you enjoy a good caning?"

He managed to jerk his head in a nod.

"Then I promise you that later I'll give you a whipping you will never forget, but for now..." Turpin moved closer. "Lift yourself so I can get at you."

He pushed up and leaned forward, between Bamford's legs, letting his forearms rest on the Beadle's thighs for support. He heard the sounds as Turpin prepared himself...felt the liquid drip into place...and fought with all his might against the gray fog that was descending, clamoring a demand to be allowed to take him away to safety. He shook his head. He could do this. He _had_ to.

He thought he heard another sound in the hall and allowed himself a brief moment of believing that Anthony was there, that Anthony was touching his face and murmuring soft words of affection.

And then the Judge took him, groaning with pleasure, and he shoved the fog away and reached for Bamford and set himself to endure.

o-o-o-o-o

He heard the whistle—loud, distinctive, a long blast, a short, a long, a pause, then another series of the pattern. He closed his eyes with relief. Soon now. He let his right hand slide casually downward to the buttons of his vest, and glanced upward.

Bamford's eyes were squeezed shut, and he was oblivious to anything but his own pleasure. And Turpin—Todd knew his patterns too well, knew that the Judge was too near completion to notice _anything_ amiss. He slipped his fingers into the inner pocket to retrieve the razor that he had honed to a deadly sharpness the night before, then dropped his hand and flicked the blade open with one swift movement.

He was _able_ to wait now, for his waiting was almost at an end. Turpin was thrusting faster, faster…and then he felt Turpin shudder against him.

And then he moved.

He straightened, letting Bamford slide into his left hand, then brought up the right. The razor didn't completely sever the erect member from the Beadle's body, but it did quite enough damage. Before Bamford even had time to gasp with shock, Todd slammed his elbow into Turpin's chest, shoving him away.

He dragged his trousers up as he went to his feet, spinning, lifting the razor again. Turpin had fallen backwards and was staring at him, uncomprehending. "Mr. Todd? What are you…"

"Not Todd." He felt the madness coming and welcomed it—_embraced_ it. "Barker. Benjamin Barker. And _this_ is for what you did to Lucy."

"That filthy whore? What does she—"

The words were drowned by Todd's scream as he slashed blindly at the Judge. And he _kept_ screaming, wordless screams of pain and rage and insanity, only faintly aware that Turpin had regained his senses enough to fight back…that they were rolling together on the floor with the blade dancing red between them…that he was cutting into flesh again and again and not caring whose…that someone was shrieking with agony…

And then everything went still, and he found himself on his knees beside a body that was no longer fighting.

He blinked and gasped for breath. Bamford was moaning piteously somewhere behind him. Turpin was lying on his back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, drenched in blood. Everything around them was drenched in blood. _He_ was drenched in blood.

And when he moved and felt the pain, he realized some of it was his own.

o-o-o-o-o

He knew too well what would happen if he lost too much blood; he'd _had_ it happen, more times than he wanted to remember, after a particularly brutal whipping. He knew he had to finish what he'd started, just like he had back on the ship with Lewis, finish it while he still could, finish it now and forever, so Johanna would be truly safe.

He staggered to his feet and awkwardly fastened his trousers. He paused just long enough to silence the Beadle and wipe the razor on his shirt before tucking it away, then stumbled to the sideboard and grabbed a lamp and as many bottles of the Judge's fine liquor as he could carry. It would do.

The key was still in the library door. He turned it and pushed the door open with his shoulder, then started down the hall, moving from room to room, front of the house to the rear and back again, spilling the alcohol across anything that looked as if it would catch fire easily, then touching the flame to it.

In the kitchen, he thought he saw a shadow move, dart away from the door and into the pantry, and for a dreadful moment he was terrified that Anthony hadn't gotten Johanna out after all and she would see what he'd done. But then his fast-clouding mind reminded him of the whistle. The signal. Johanna was out of the house. She was safe. She'd never know...not what he'd done...not what the Judge had done to her mother...not what the Judge had done to him...

He found himself back in the library, dizzy, empty handed, not knowing where he'd left the last bottle or the lamp. He looked around and spied the decanter, on the table where the Judge had left it. He almost toppled over when he bent to pick it up. He unstoppered it and poured the contents over Turpin's body, then reached for the nearest lamp and dropped it.

And then he stood there, chest heaving, shivering, watching as the flame caught and began to burn. It was done. Johanna was free. Turpin and Bamford were dead. Revenge…justice…salvation...he was finished. And he was suddenly so very tired.

The flames were spreading quickly, and the house was beginning to fill with smoke. He shook himself and reeled from the room, back down the hallway, toward the door that opened to the alley. If he were going to escape, it had to be this way. He couldn't go out the front door, couldn't be seen leaving, couldn't let anyone know...

He almost made it before the smoke and blood loss overtook him. His legs gave way and he sprawled painfully onto the stone floor of the kitchen, coughing, gasping for air. The door was standing open. He tried to push himself up, get to it, get out...but he couldn't find the strength to move.

It didn't matter. They didn't need him anymore. Anthony would take care of Johanna, and Johanna would take care of Anthony. Anthony…he wished...

He slumped to the floor and let his eyes close.

"Ben! Benjamin Barker, open your eyes this instant!"

Lucy. He heard Lucy's voice, coming from a great distance, Lucy, his precious Lucy, and he knew he was dying.

"You have to get out. Please, please, oh God, Ben…"

He thought he felt someone grab his arm and try to drag him across the floor, but his consciousness was fading fast. He whispered her name, and he smiled.

And then everything was gone.


	22. Chapter 19b

Still doing the line repeat thing, I see…

Still doing the line repeat thing, I see…

Even after all the time we've spent together, they aren't mine. I'm almost finished with them and will give them back to their rightful owners when I am. Warnings: Spoilers for the movie/play and implied violence.

A bit more of the backtracking and different perspective before we move on to the end of the story.

Thank you to Miss Becky (it's official; we rock!) and to everybody who's reading and enjoying this.

This part is dedicated to Streifenhoernchen, who knows why… hugs

o-o-o-o-o

_Nineteen B: Deliverance_

_Mustn't be seen mustn't be seen mustn't be seen, not ever ever __**ever**__ be seen, mustn't be seen._

It was dark enough though, the moon gone behind the clouds, the street lamps far enough away from where she was waiting, a bench to hide behind if _he_ came out again. The last time the Beadle had caught her here, he'd chased her for three blocks, and when he'd caught her at last, he'd hit her so hard with his cane that she'd thought her leg was broken. She'd limped for a week and, for a week, she'd stayed away.

She'd been careful ever since, coming only at night, hiding, because she mustn't be seen. But she had to _see_. She didn't know why, but she _had_ to come back, over and over, to see _her_.

_Pretty little Johanna with her pretty yellow hair so much like...like...like somebody I knew…sad little Johanna, sitting up there in her window all day long, crying and crying. There ought to be a baby. Yellow hair...crying...lullabies...there ought to be a baby…ought to be…_

And then she gasped, because she saw _him_ coming down the street—the oh-so-familiar man with the pretty dark eyes.

_**Know**__ him...know him know him know him...if he'd just stop once…just for a minute…look at me…I might remember why I know him…or maybe __**he'd**__ know why and…_

She slunk back and shoved her hands across her mouth to keep from moaning or calling out a warning, because he was walking up to the house she'd been watching ever since it had gotten dark, and he was knocking on the door.

_Nonono, don't go in there…bad evil wicked place…you know…you know what happens in there…know what they did to you…did to me…bad evil wicked more than wicked…but __**you**__ went because you wanted to…you did those things…wicked things…because you wanted to…not like me…they made __**me**__ do them…hurt me…evil Judge…evil Beadle…and they told me things…told me what you did and how you liked it…how you wanted to do it…begged to do it…and it was true because you're going there again and they'll do them again and…and…_

She watched as he knocked on the door and the Judge opened it, watched and wondered why he was smiling at the Judge, when he _knew_ what the Judge would do to him once they were inside.

_Going to let them do it again…let them let them let them…the Judge and the Beadle…let them do those awful things…let them…oh god why did you let them…_

_I mustn't be seen mustn't be seen._

o-o-o-o-o

She clung to the shadows, fingers working anxiously at the front of her shawl, head bobbing as she looked up at the window, waiting to see if Johanna would appear there tonight. She knew she shouldn't be there. She remembered what the Beadle had said after he'd hit her, what he'd said he'd do to her if he ever caught her on the street again. But her need to see Johanna was greater than her fear, so she hid and watched and waited for the girl to appear.

And then she saw another figure, running from the corner, across the street, ducking into the alley that led behind the Judge's house and beyond.

_That boy...the boy who was with the man I know...pretty man...pretty dark eyes...the boy who gives me pies…no boy don't go there there's evil evil they'll take you and hurt you and make you crazy and make you sell yourself to live only it doesn't matter because I'm spoiled and he…he was spoiled…those terrible things he did…let them do…wanted them to do begged them to do…_

_Don't go there boy._

He'd always been kind to her, giving her coins at first, then giving her food. He was always polite to her, always treated her as if she were a real person and not some crazy old hag. The boy didn't know what he was doing—what sort of risk he was taking. She had to stop him, before Turpin and Bamford caught him and he was as ruined as she was. She gathered her skirts in one hand and lurched across the street, following him down the alleyway, hoping he'd gone on and out the other end.

But when she got there, the kitchen door to Turpin's house was standing open, and she knew he'd gone in.

_Shouldn't go in after him shouldn't do it shouldn't do it be crazy to do it but I'm crazy ain't I, crazy crazy crazy ol' Lou crazy old woman...where did he go...where did he go...doesn't he know...danger..._

She took one step, then another, looking anxiously about her, as if the kitchen utensils would spring to life and attack her. The door to the pantry was open and she sidled toward it, peering inside, wishing it weren't so dark and she could see inside, wishing she could find food so she wouldn't go to sleep hungry again. And then she heard soft footsteps in the hall.

_Nonono...somebody's coming…the Judge…the Beadle…oh god…nononono…they'll hurt me hurt me hurt me…_

Acting on instinct, she ducked sideways into the pantry and froze there, hardly daring to breathe as the young man hurried by, arm around Johanna, stealing her away again. He turned to lock the door behind them, and then they were gone. She smiled just for a moment, thinking that Johanna was free. But then she realized that the door was locked, and she was trapped inside the house.

She stumbled across the room and began to jerk frantically on the knob as if it would come open, but it refused to budge. She felt quickly, desperately, along the walls on either side until she found a ring of keys, then, hands shaking, she began to try them in the lock, one after the other.

_No...no...no...crazy crazy crazy to have come in here...no...no...no...crazy crazy crazy..._

Her hands went still and her eyes widened with a new terror. Someone was screaming—there, in the front of the house—horrible screams of pain and rage and madness that went on and on and on. The keys fell from her fingers as she clapped her hands over her ears, whimpering softly in her own madness.

And then it stopped, and everything was quiet as the grave.

_Have to get out...have to get out...keys...no...no...no...somebody crazy in here...no...no..._

She heard the footsteps just in time and flung herself back into the pantry as a dark figure stalked into the room. She could see his dreadful features in the glow of the lantern he carried, see the blood that covered his hands and clothing and face. She stared, wide-eyed, as he poured something from a bottle across the table on the other side of the room, splashed it onto the curtains. And then he raised a side of the lantern and set them afire.

He was gone again before it had time to blaze up. Almost wild with fear, she dashed back out and tore the curtains down, hissing at the heat, stomped the fire out, then used the remains to smother the flames on the table.

_Have to get out before he comes back…demon…monster…crazy man…keys…keys…_

She scrabbled about on the floor until she found them, then resumed her frenzied search for the right one. She could tell that he'd set fires in other rooms of the house; the smoke was beginning to work its way back to the kitchen. She coughed and turned key after key...and then the lock clicked and the door came open.

_Have to get out have to get out have to get out..._

But she stopped just outside, and her face worked as a thought—a memory—surfaced.

_It was him…that demon…it was __**him**__…the one I know with the pretty eyes…I know him…_

She hovered, wanting to run but held in place by some emotion she didn't even begin to understand. And then she saw him, standing in the door from the hallway, only not so frightening now. Now, he just seemed very tired. Sick. Weak. He was coughing even harder than she had and even in the gloom she could see that he was shaking.

He pushed away from the door frame and took a few faltering steps toward her, but she could tell he didn't see her. Didn't see anything.

_Hurt…he's hurt…knew the Judge would hurt him…knew it…he should've known too…hurt him before only he wanted to before maybe now maybe..._

His legs gave way and he pitched to the floor. He tried to push himself up, but failed, and rolled onto his back. She saw his dark eyes close, and she knew he was dying.

_Ben._

She was back in the room, standing over him, quivering with fear and with knowledge. "Ben! Benjamin Barker, open your eyes this instant!" She bent over him, shook him. "You have to get out. Please, please, oh God, Ben…"

She grabbed his arm and started to drag him toward the door. He stirred ever so slightly, and she thought she heard him whisper a name that might've once been hers, then he went limp.

"Oh God, help me!"

She got her arm under him and pulled him up…

_He don't weigh nothing no more not like when he was…when we were…when…he's so thin…so thin…oh Ben what's happened to you…used to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder and carry me up the steps…he's so thin now…I can do it…oh Ben oh Ben… _

…and then she had him on his feet, and somehow she _did_ get him across her shoulder. She staggered with the weight, but something gave her a strength she hadn't possessed for years. She leaned against the wall of the alley for support and made it to the other end, away from the noises, away from the smoke. Made it across the street and into the little park there. Made it off the path so they wouldn't be found. And then she sank to her knees and let him roll down onto the grass.

_Ben, my Ben, oh God, my Ben, home at last, home at last._

She ran her hands over him, touching his face—brow, eyes, cheeks, lips—stroking his hair…

_Brown…it was brown…not like this…not all…wild…crazy…_

Pulling his hand to her lips, kissing it, patting his shoulder, his chest, crooning softly. Her Ben was home, and she wanted to lie down beside him—curl up next to him the way she had so long before, before Turpin had ruined their lives—kiss him and hold him and tell him she loved him and how glad she was that he'd come back to her.

_Can't…blood…blood everywhere…_

There was blood on her hands where she'd touched him. Blood on her dress, where she'd held him. In the dim light, she could see it on him, fresh and wet and dark. Could see how pale his face was, and the way he lay there, not moving, barely breathing.

_Going to die…he's going to die…have to get help…have to get the boy…Johanna…have to find the boy before it's too late…_

She flung herself to her feet and hurled out of the park, around the end of the block, down the street first one way, then the other.

_Nonononono…have to find them can't let him die not now not when he's come home to me…_

And then she looked up the street across from the Judge's house and saw them.


	23. Chapter 20

Two apologies to everybody reading this. First, I'm sorry it took so long. It just wasn't going "right" and I wasn't going to let go of it until I was at least 90 happy with the way it read. Second, I thought this would be the last part of the story, but it's taking a bit longer to wrap it all up than I thought, so there will be at least one more part, and maybe two.

Standard disclaimers: None of these guys are mine, and I'm not making any money with this. Unpleasantness and unhappiness, as usual.

Thanks to Miss Becky for the beta and for the encouragement. And happy birthday to The Pixess!

o-o-o-o-o

_Twenty_

"We need to go."

Anthony knew Connor was right. They'd already stayed here longer than they should have, Connor pacing, Johanna clinging to him and weeping, and he too numb to do anything but pat her shoulder and stare at the pillars of smoke now visible even from the spot where they'd stopped. He wouldn't let himself cry. Wouldn't let himself wish that Connor hadn't stopped him and he'd died there too.

The clamor from the nearby street was getting louder by the minute, as more and more people flocked in to gawk at the fire. The crowd was already beginning to spill around the corner. It wouldn't be long before someone spotted them—before someone recognized Johanna—and then there would be all sorts of questions that none of them were prepared to answer just yet.

They needed to go, but going meant that they were leaving Todd, abandoning him. It was foolish and childish and totally irrational, because Todd was past caring, but still…

"Anthony? We _have_ to go."

He nodded and forced himself to his feet, pulling Johanna up with him.

"We'll go back to Mrs. Lovett's." There was a slight tremor in Connor's voice that betrayed his own feelings, no matter how calm and in control he seemed. "We don't have to worry about anybody coming to look for us—not now."

No. Not now. Todd had bought their safety. They were free to go on with their lives, free from the need to hide, free...

"This way." Connor reached out and detached Johanna from him, and they turned to go.

"Boy! Boy! Stop! Stopstopstop!"

The beggar woman, running toward them in her lopsided way, waving her arms to get his attention, her screams rising even above the other noise. Anthony's throat closed at the sight of her. It seemed right somehow, that she was here, tonight, since she'd _always_ seemed to be there, but at that moment he didn't think he could stand to hear her wild chatter about the man she knew. He found a coin in his pocket and held it out as she ran up to him and seized his arm.

"Here, mum..."

"Nononono." She shoved his hand away. "Not money...no...help...need help...not money...you have to come…come…quickquickquick…" She was pulling frantically at him, babbling urgently but incoherently.

"Mum, please..."

"Hurry…have him...have him...pretty dark eyes...have him…" She giggled. "Saved him...my Ben..."

And then something clicked in his brain and he realized what she was saying. He grabbed her shoulders so hard she gasped.

"Where? Where is he?"

"There...there...there..."

"Show me."

o-o-o-o-o

She did her best, but she didn't—couldn't—move fast enough to suit him. He urged her on, his grief replaced with a sick terror that she _had_ managed to save Todd somehow, but that they would get to him too late.

It was quieter on the far side of the block, although they could still hear the sounds from the fire. "This way…this way…" She was leading them toward what looked like a small park, almost dancing. "There...there…dark...dark like his pretty eyes…safe..." She giggled again.

The moon chose that moment to come out from behind the clouds, and Anthony saw the figure sprawled on the ground not ten feet away. For the second time that night, he broke into a run, flinging himself to his knees, and then staring in horror.

Todd was covered with blood. His face was dead white beneath the splotches of blood and soot, and his eyes were closed. For one awful moment, Anthony thought he wasn't breathing, but then Todd coughed weakly, and his paralysis broke. "Mr. Todd?"

From behind his left shoulder, he heard Connor mutter, "Shit!"

Todd coughed again, and his eyelids fluttered open. He rolled his head slowly toward them, and struggled as if he were trying to sit up.

"Don't, sir."

"Johanna?" His voice was rasping. "Is she safe?"

"I'm here, Father." She was on the ground too, sliding an arm beneath Todd's head to pull him against her. "I'm safe."

Todd made a low sound that was somewhere between joy and pain. "My baby…little lamb…" His mouth twitched as if he were trying to smile. Then his brow furrowed. "Anthony?"

"Yes sir."

"I'm sorry…"

Connor pushed past them both. "Where are you hurt, Mr. Todd?"

He shivered and coughed again. "Arm…chest…"

"Is…" He gave Johanna a quick, apologetic glance even as he was running his hands quickly across Todd's body. "Is all this blood yours?"

"No."

"Thank God for that at least. Here…" Connor ripped off his scarf. "We have to get this one stopped." He wrapped it quickly around Todd's upper arm, made a knot, and pulled it tight. Todd hissed.

"I'm going for the carriage." He was up and spinning and gone almost before the words were out of his mouth.

Johanna cradled her father against her, rocking slightly back and forth, stroking his cheek. Anthony wished he could do the same—hold on to Todd, _force_ him to live, for both of them.

"Saved him…saved the pretty man…"

He'd completely forgotten the beggar woman. He looked up at her and smiled. "Yes mum, you did. Thank you."

She edged forward and hesitantly reached out to brush her fingers across Johanna's hair. "Pretty Johanna…pretty man…" She leaned a bit closer.

Todd's head jerked in her direction. "Lucy…"

The woman froze. And then, in a saner tone than he would ever have imagined could come from her, she said clearly, "No, love. Not your Lucy. Just a crazy old woman." She stretched out a hand as if she wanted to touch his face, then shook herself and straightened.

"Mum?"

She looked down at him and, for a moment, he could almost see the woman she'd once been. "You take good care of him for me, boy. You take good care of _her_ too. Promise me."

"Yes mum, but…"

"Be happy." And then she was gone, faded away into the night, before Anthony could even thank her.

"Anthony…"

"Yes sir."

"I'm sorry…"

"For what, sir?"

But before he could answer, Todd's eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp against Johanna.

o-o-o-o-o

"He'll be all right. He'll be all right. He'll be all right." He said it over and over under his breath, praying it, willing it to be true.

He didn't hear the approaching hoofbeats, didn't know the carriage was there until Connor burst through the open gate carrying a thick robe. He took one look at Todd, then leaned down to place his fingers on Todd's throat.

"He's got a pulse, but he won't have it for long if we don't get him someplace where we can take care of him. Here. Took it from the carriage. Let's get him on it."

Johanna finally let go and allowed them to carefully shift Todd onto the blanket and wrap the wool around him. He seemed too still, too lifeless. He whimpered only once, when Connor started to lift him, then fell silent again.

They followed Connor to the waiting cab. The cabbie peered down at them and shook his head. "You need any help with your friend, Signor Pirelli?"

Connor flashed a smile up at the cabbie. "No, but I thanka you for your kinda offer." He slid awkwardly up into one of the seats. Anthony helped Johanna in, then climbed in behind her.

"Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop, you said?"

"Si, si, grazie."

Connor waited until they were in motion before leaning his head toward them and murmuring, "We won't have to worry about him talking."

That had been the farthest thing from Anthony's mind, but Johanna whispered, "Why?"

"I know him. He doesn't care much for the Judge. If he has any suspicions later on, he'll keep them to himself."

The passing street lamps shed enough light through the windows for Anthony to see Todd's face. "We have to find a doctor."

"We can't take the chance."

"Davy…"

"_Think_, Anthony. There's been a major fire at the home of an important man. It's a safe bet that two people are dead. We've got a man that's covered in blood and smells like smoke."

"But…"

"I don't like it either." Connor's voice was thick with his own pain. "_We'll_ take care of him. We'll _have_ to."

And there was nothing he could say, because he knew Connor was right.

o-o-o-o-o

Almost before the cab came to a stop, Anthony threw open the door and leaped out. Johanna was behind him, falling into his arms, and then he reached up to steady Connor as he stepped down still holding Todd.

"You going to be all right there?"

Connor paused for a heartbeat. "Si, si. Grazie, grazie, my frienda. Anthony, eefa you weel geevea this man…"

"No sir." He touched his cap. "You've paid me enough." He lifted the reins and set the horses off at a trot.

Connor headed for the steps, pausing for a heartbeat when he saw Mrs. Lovett standing in the doorway of the shop, hand to her throat, Toby peeking out around her shoulder. She exchanged a meaningful glance with Connor, muttered something profane under her breath, and jerked her head.

"Get 'im upstairs. Put 'im on th' floor s' we c'n see wot we're doin'." She turned to Anthony and Johanna. "You, go help 'im. You, come wi' me." As if noticing Toby for the first time, she added, "An' _you_ get back t' bed."

Anthony dashed up the steps after Connor, reaching the landing in time to open the door for him. Connor strode to the center of the room, then bent to lower his burden. Todd groaned and began to cough again.

Anthony moved quickly from lamp to lamp, lighting them, moving them closer so they could see better. Connor carefully unfolded the blanket, then shook his head.

It was even worse than Anthony had thought. "There's so much blood..."

"I hope to God he was right and it's not all his." Connor's lips moved quickly, silently, as if in prayer. "Let's get his shirt off so we can see where he's hurt."

As Connor pushed the vest open, Anthony saw a flash of silver in the inside pocket. He realized it was the razor—the one missing from the box—just as Connor reached for it and pulled it free. The handle was caked with blood, and when Connor flipped it open, he could see that the blade was too. Without a second glance, Connor gave it a quick swipe across the blanket, as if that could clean it, and then put an edge under the fabric at the shoulder and slit the seam neatly open.

The door banged open and Mrs. Lovett bustled into the room, with Johanna close behind her. "'ere y' go. We got water an' a sheet y' c'n tear up. 'ere, love, set it down there."

Connor had pulled the vest away and was reaching for the tattered remains of Todd's shirt, but Anthony caught his wrist and threw a quick glance at Johanna, who had stopped and was standing over them, pale and trembling.

Mrs. Lovett caught the look. She put an arm around Johanna's shoulders and firmly turned her toward the door. "Right then. C'mon, dearie. We'll pop on back down an' get y' cleaned up."

"I want to stay…"

"We'd jus' be in th' way. C'mon, now. D'y' know, I used t' bounce y' on my knee when you was a baby."

Connor waited until the door shut behind them, then looked at Anthony and said, "What?"

"He's...he has...scars...from... He wouldn't want her to see them." It seemed like such a trivial thing to be concerned about at that moment, but Connor nodded understanding.

"Start ripping up that sheet. We're going to need it."

o-o-o-o-o

Connor carefully peeled away the torn and bloody shirt, soaking it loose where it stuck to the skin, flinching every time Todd whimpered or moaned or jerked with pain. At last, he motioned for Anthony to hold up one of the lanterns so he could get a closer look.

"Could be worse. Lots of little cuts. They've mostly quit bleeding." Connor pointed and frowned. "That one and that one though, they need to be stitched. I don't know—"

"I can do it."

Connor looked at him in surprise. "You can?"

"I think so. I watched Dr. McGuire…on the ship." He remembered it too well, holding the light as the doctor sewed a gash in Todd's head. It hadn't bothered him then, but now that he knew the man...loved the man...

"Watching and doing are two different things."

"I can do it."

"Go get what you need then while I see if I can clean him up a bit."

o-o-o-o-o

By the time he was finished, Anthony suspected it would have been hard to say whether he or Todd had gone paler during the process. He'd had to stop twice to put his head down until the dizziness had passed, but when Connor had offered to help, he'd refused. Todd had gone still and silent now; through it all, he hadn't moved or made a sound, and somehow that disturbed Anthony more than if his friend had thrashed and screamed with the pain.

He cut the last bit of thread and dropped back onto the floor, fighting down the urge to be sick, letting Connor wrap the strips of cloth around the wounds.

"Good work, Anthony."

He nodded, then shifted to brush his hand across Todd's hair and wonder if Todd were merely unconscious or if he had gone away again.

"That can't have been easy, feeling the way you do about him."

Anthony was too exhausted to do anything other than say, "No."

"He didn't want to do it."

"What?"

"What he did..." He gestured vaguely. "With the Judge. But he thought he had to. And it worked, didn't it, even better than we thought it would, because he made sure Johanna wouldn't ever have to be afraid again."

"I know."

"He cares about you. You know that, don't you?"

"I suppose."

Connor leaned over until Anthony was forced to look into his face. "_He_ knows. But I don't think he knows how _much_."

Anthony wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that there was hope for a future with Todd—but he couldn't let himself. "Are you done there? We should get him into the bed and covered up."

Connor sighed and let it go.

o-o-o-o-o

They'd just settled Todd in and wrapped the blankets tightly around him when Mrs. Lovett knocked at the door. She poked her head in and murmured, "Th' girl wants t' see 'im. Y' finished?"

Connor answered for them. "I think we've done all we can for the moment."

She turned her head. "A' right, dearie. You c'n come up."

Johanna all but crept into the room, gazing fearfully at her father. "Is he going to be all right?"

"I hope so." Connor went to fetch the chair and set it beside the bed. "Do you want to stay with him for a while?"

"Please." She eased herself into the chair, giving Connor a shy smile, and then leaning forward to stare at Todd.

"We probably should try to get some liquids into him. Water or soup maybe."

Mrs. Lovett nodded. "I'll get it. An' you—y' come w' me." She took Anthony's elbow and gave him a look that told him not to argue. "Y' need t' wrap y'self 'round a nice big tumbler o' gin."

"But…"

"I'll stay with Johanna, so she won't be alone."

"Good enough." She pushed Anthony out of the room and down the stairs and into the pie shop. "Sit." She gave him a shove toward the bench. He sank gratefully onto it, staring at the table until she returned and set a full glass in front of him.

"Drink it down, love." When he only sipped at it, she scooted in beside him and put a hand over his on the bottom of the glass and tilted it up. "All o' it."

She waited until the gin was gone, until it had begun to do its work and he had begun to relax, and then said, "Wot th' bloody 'ell 'appened out there?"

"He went into Turpin's house, and after a while he gave the signal. We waited...and then I went in and got Johanna out. We were supposed to leave, but I couldn't..."

"I know, dearie."

"So we waited...and then we saw the fire…"

She caught her breath. "Fire?"

"Turpin's house. It was…he...there was smoke and flames and I thought...I knew he was...dead." His voice cracked.

She reached for him and pulled his head down onto her shoulder and let him cry, patting him and making low, soothing noises until he was quiet again.

"That woman…the beggar who's always coming around…" he said at last. "She got him out somehow and found us and took us to him." He hesitated. "Mrs. Lovett, I think...I think Mr. Todd killed them."

"That filthy Judge and 'is Beadle? Good riddance if 'e did."

He wanted to be shocked by her response, but the emotion was beyond him at the moment.

"'ere now." She released him. "Y' need t' get on back up there an' take some water. I'll make 'im some soup tomorrow, if 'e's up to it."

"No mum." He leaned over to kiss the top of her head. "_I'll_ make the soup."

"I _do_ love y', boy."

o-o-o-o-o

Mrs. Lovett followed him back upstairs, taking command, ordering Johanna to go back with her and Connor to take his young ward and go home for the night.

"Anthony c'n take care o' Mr. T. If 'e needs anythin', 'e c'n call an' we'll be up in a tic."

Johanna stood reluctantly. "You promise you'll call if there's any change?"

"I swear."

She leaned over to kiss Todd's forehead, then allowed Mrs. Lovett to take her away.

"Sure you'll be all right?"

Anthony nodded.

"I'll be back in the morning."

And then he was alone with Todd. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and put his elbows on the edge of the mattress and stared at Todd for a long time, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest and the occasional flickers of movement from the corners of his mouth or his eyelids.

He desperately wanted to crawl into the bed with Todd and hold him and tell him how much he was loved, but he was afraid to. There was no way of guessing the state of Todd's mind at the moment. As they'd finished undressing him, Anthony had seen that Todd's trousers had been buttoned wrong, as if they'd been done up quickly. He didn't want to think about what that meant, but he _had_ to—he had to realize that Todd might not want to be touched at all right now. Might not want to be touched in any way ever again.

He rose and drew the chair even closer to the bed, then pulled Todd's limp hand from beneath the covers and took between his own, pressing his lips against it and praying. And at last the gin and the weariness overcame him. He leaned forward and let his head rest on the bed beside Todd's hand and slept.


	24. Chapter 21

Twenty-one

I thought I'd be finished by now, but the story is still going on. Thanks to everybody who's still sticking with me!

None of these folks are mine, and I'm not making money, and all that. And thank you to Miss Becky for the beta and encouragement.

o-o-o-o-o

_Twenty-one_

Anthony dreamed that someone was touching his hair with gentle fingers and whispering, "I'm sorry," over and over in a tone that was almost too low to hear. There was love in the touch, in the voice, a love that he craved more than anything...

He snapped awake, blinking in the faint light of just-dawn. It took a moment for his mind to shake free of the dream and begin to function—for him to remember where he was and why he was there—and for him to turn his attention to the unmoving figure on the bed.

Todd's eyes were open.

"Mr. Todd!" He was on his feet before he realized that Todd's eyes were _open_, but they weren't _aware_. The smile faded from his face as quickly as it had come as he realized what that blank stare meant. "No. Oh no, sir, please...no..."

He lit one of the lanterns to take a closer look, hoping he'd been mistaken, but the dark eyes were as unblinking, unfocussed, as he'd feared. The only signs of life in Todd's face were two streaks moving downward from the outer corners of his eyes, as if he had wept.

"Are you in pain, sir?" He knew instantly that it had been a foolish question. Sliced open with his own razor, sewn up by inexpert hands—of course Todd was in pain, and severe pain, if it had forced even a single tear out of him and sent him...away. Anthony prayed it was only the pain that had left Todd like this, and not something far worse.

He placed his hand on Todd's forehead, relieved to find it cool. At the touch, he thought he saw a flicker of intelligence in Todd's eyes, and then Todd's lips began to move ever so slightly, soundlessly.

"What is it, sir?" he asked desperately. "What can I do for you?"

Todd gave a low gurgle of pain, then his lips went still and his eyes slid shut. Not knowing what else to do, Anthony sat back down and stared at him and waited.

o-o-o-o-o

Connor arrived first, knocking on the door before he came in. His gaze moved from Anthony to Todd and back.

"How is he?"

"Quiet."

Connor carefully pulled the covers back. "Doesn't look like he's bled much more. That's good. We'll change the bandages later and have a look. Has he been awake at all?"

"His eyes were open, but...no," Anthony said reluctantly.

"Shit." From the force of the single word, it was obvious that Connor understood what he wasn't saying.

"He told you."

Connor nodded. "He said he wanted to warn me in case it happened when he..." His voice trailed away.

"When he serviced Turpin in the back of the wagon."

"Yeah." Connor became very interested in tucking the blankets back around Todd's shoulders. "He told me that you saw them."

"Yes."

"He was as upset as I've ever seen him, that next day, after."

Anthony couldn't help thinking that Connor had no idea just _how_ upset Todd was capable of being.

"He didn't want you to know. He—"

Anthony cut him off with a curt gesture. "It doesn't matter now."

Connor looked as if he wanted to say something else, but Todd moaned softly and drew his attention away from Anthony.

"Think we could get a little water in him?"

"We can try."

o-o-o-o-o

Although Todd remained unresponsive, he did swallow some of the water that Connor and Anthony managed to get into his mouth. They went slowly, giving him a small sip at a time, afraid he'd choke, but at last the glass was empty.

"Maybe that'll help him some."

"Maybe." Anthony turned to set the glass on the dresser. As he did, he saw the razor that Connor had used the night before to cut away Todd's clothes—the razor that had been in Todd's vest pocket—the razor that he knew _Todd_ had used to...

He yanked open the top drawer and swept the razor out of sight with a quick motion.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and he heard Mrs. Lovett call out, "Y' boys decent in there? We brought y' some breakfast."

"Yes mum." Anthony rushed to open the door for her. "Good morning, Mrs. L."

She swept in, Johanna following behind her like a shadow. "Mornin', Anthony. Davy. Mornin', Mr. T." There was something so determinedly cheerful about her that Anthony almost believed Todd _would_ hear her. "Davy, 'elp Johanna spread that blanket out next t' th' bed. I thought we'd 'ave a picnic. That a'right w' you, Mr. T?"

Since she barely paused for breath, Todd wouldn't have had the chance to reply even if he'd wanted to. "Anthony, put th' kettle on. I brought some tea. An' don' worry 'bout eatin' these." She held up a plate of pastries. "I didn't make 'em. Went out bright an' early this mornin' and got 'em from th' bakery down th' street."

Johanna had drifted to the side of the bed and was staring down at her father. She looked even paler this morning than she had the night before, and her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying.

"'ere we are." Mrs. Lovett plopped down onto a corner of the blanket and stretched her legs out in front of her. "Johanna, come sit w' us. Y' can talk t' him later."

She fell silent only when the tea and cakes had been handed out, biting into hers and making appreciative noises, as if she were thoroughly enjoying it, seeming not to notice that the others were only nibbling at theirs.

"There's something I need to show you." Connor gave up all pretense of eating and reached into his coat pocket. "The morning news. I got it from the boy on the corner near the market." He unfolded the paper and held it out.

Anthony took it and turned it so that Mrs. Lovett could read over his shoulder. It was a brief account of the fire, stating that there was no clue yet as to its origin and that both Turpin and Bamford had perished in the blaze. And it also said...

He looked up at Johanna. "They think you died too, that they just haven't found you—your body—yet."

Johanna's eyes went wide and she dropped her pastry onto her lap.

"I suppose we ought to let someone know that you're all right," he said hesitantly.

"Why?" It was the first word she'd spoken since entering the room.

"Because they'll be worried about you."

"Who? Judge Turpin had no family as far as I ever knew, and not many friends either. Who's going to miss me?"

"Surely there's somebody..."

"The only people who care about me are here in this room."

Mrs. Lovett leaned over to pat her shoulder.

"But if that's true...about the family, I mean...wouldn't you inherit something? Money? I mean, since you were his ward?"

"And if I did, I'd go right back to being someone _else's_ ward, maybe someone even worse than he was. Let them think what they want."

"Anthony's right," Connor said abruptly. "You have to let them know you're alive."

"But…"

He raised a hand to silence her. "If you don't, you'll spend the rest of your life—or at least the next few years—being afraid someone will recognize you and wonder how you managed to escape the fire." He nodded toward the bed. "Mr. Todd almost died trying to make you safe. Trying to make sure you'd have a good life and wouldn't ever have to be afraid again. You have to do your part now."

"But what?" she whispered. "What can I do?"

Connor grinned at her. "I'll wager most of Turpin's associates knew he planned to marry you, and I'll wager that most of them knew what kind of man he was. They won't be _too_ surprised when you show up and tell them that you didn't want to marry him, so you eloped last night with Anthony."

She gasped. Anthony suspected that he had too.

Connor went on as if he hadn't noticed. "You didn't realize what had happened until you came back this morning with your new husband and saw that the house was gone. You were devastated, of course. You could drop a hint that Turpin might've set the fire, either deliberately or by accident, when he realized what you'd done." He spread his hands. "You'll be safe, and if there's any money to be had, you'll have it. I think Turpin _owes_ it to you for what he did to you and your family. And you won't need a guardian because you have a husband."

Johanna was shaking her head. "I couldn't."

Although the idea of even a sham marriage to Johanna made him cringe, Anthony forced himself to say eagerly, "Of course you could. You're an excellent actress. You could make them believe anything you wanted."

"It's not that, Anthony, it's…" She bit her lip and looked embarrassed. "I couldn't pretend to elope with _you_. You're my _cousin_." She caught herself. "I know you're not _really_, but that's how I think of you. As family."

"Oh." He hoped he didn't sound as relieved as he felt.

"All right then, you eloped with _me_."

Johanna stared at Connor as if he'd suddenly taken leave of his senses. "_You_? But I don't _know_ you."

"You'll know me well enough by the time we have to convince anyone that we're madly in love. Besides..." He attempted to twirl his thin moustache. "Whata woman coulda ever resista the charms ofa the famous Signor Adolfo Pirelli?"

"Signor Pirelli? Who's that? And why are you talking so funny?"

Anthony couldn't help laughing at the dismayed expression on Connor's face.

Mrs. Lovett spoke up for the first time. "Maybe y' ain't quite as famous as y' thought y' was, Signor." She put a hand over Johanna's. "They're right, love. Y' need t' do this if y' want t' 'ave any kind o' life."

Johanna looked from one to the other, and then at the still figure on the bed, and said, "All right."

"Good. Firs' thin' we need t' do is get y' a proper dress wot ain't covered in blood. I 'ave jus' th' thing downstairs. We're near enough of a size that we c'n make it fit."

Connor scrambled to his feet, reaching down to help Johanna and Mrs. Lovett up. He bowed over Johanna's hand, planting a kiss on the back of it and giving her one of his dazzling smiles. "Until we meet again, my love."

Johanna looked as if she couldn't decide whether to snatch her hand back or return his smile.

"You go get ready. I'll help Anthony with Mr. Todd, and then I'll be down and we'll get our story straight before we set out." He winked. "And I'll tell you all about the man you've just married."

Johanna was blushing as Mrs. Lovett shooed her out the door.

Connor stared after her for a moment, then said, "I think she and I are going to get along very well."

"She's very special," Anthony agreed. He turned toward the bed. "Just like her father."

"Let's have a look at him."

Todd was doing amazingly well, all things considered, no hint of infection, the minor wounds already starting to scab over, the major ones leaking only a tiny bit of blood now. Anthony ripped a few more strips off the sheet and handed them over so Connor could redo the bandages.

Connor chatted with Todd as if the man could hear him and would reply any minute. "I'd like to ask your permission to marry your daughter, Mr. Todd. I know I should've asked earlier, but under the circumstances, I hope you'll forgive me and give us your blessing." He tied the strip around Todd's arm. "I swear that I'll take good care of her and give her everything her heart desires." He paused and shook his head. "But I think the only thing she really wants right now is to talk to you."

He straightened. "It worries me, him not waking up."

"Yes."

"You'll stay with him while Johanna and I go and take care of things?"

"Of course."

"We'll be back as soon as we can." Connor put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, then hurried off to meet with his bride.

o-o-o-o-o

After a time, Todd's eyes opened again, but they were still vacant. He was still lost in that other world of his. Anthony sat there, feeling the tears run down his cheeks, thinking of the other times he'd seen Todd like this, wondering once again if Todd would come back this time…and what state he'd be in if he did.

o-o-o-o-o

"Why is he just staring? Why won't he talk to us?"

Johanna and Connor had returned in triumph a little over an hour before. She'd run upstairs immediately to check on Todd, squealing with joy when she'd seen that his eyes were open, disconsolate when she'd realized that it hadn't meant he was conscious. Luckily, Connor and Mrs. Lovett had been right behind her. Connor had distracted her by engaging her in his retelling of their visit to the ruined house and the police station, then Mrs. Lovett had distracted her by taking her downstairs to make more tea, but now she was back, staring down at her father, her brow furrowed in a manner so much like his that it hurt Anthony to look at her.

"What's wrong with him, Anthony?"

"He's…" Anthony stopped. There was no way to explain to her that Todd was hiding in his mind, because then he would have to explain _why_, and that would lead to telling her things that he knew Todd wouldn't want her to know. He finally settled for, "I don't think he's really awake."

"Oh." There was a world of disappointment in her voice. "I hoped..."

"Give him a little time." He spoke with an assurance that he was far from feeling. "He'll come out of it and be all right."

"It's just..."

"I know." He looked over his shoulder at Connor. "Why don't you two sit with him while I go make some soup, then we'll see if we can get him to drink it. That might help."

Johanna took his place in the chair and, with one last glance in Todd's direction, Anthony left. He had a feeling it was going to be a _very_ long evening.

o-o-o-o-o

It was.

Despite their best efforts, Todd drank only a little of the soup. He remained inert, unresponsive, gaze fixed on something only he could see. Johanna paced and wept and even allowed Connor to take her in his arms and try to comfort her. Anthony sat on the blanket from their morning picnic, feeling totally helpless.

"A'right, now." Mrs. Lovett appeared in the doorway, trying to scowl, but the quiver of her lip betrayed her. "We've 'ad enough o' this f' one day. Davy, y' need t' get 'ome t' Toby 'fore 'e gets in some mischief. Johanna, love, you need t' come on downstairs an' get some sleep."

"But..."

Mrs. Lovett silenced her with a quick shake of her head. "Nothin' y' can do jus' 'angin' over 'im. Anthony'll take care o' 'im and let us know if need be."

Johanna looked as if she wanted to refuse, but Connor held out his arm for her. With a sigh, she took it and allowed him to escort her out and down the stairs.

"Y' a'right?"

"Yes mum."

"'e can't go on like that much longer."

"I know."

"You're th' only one wot can do anythin' for 'im, y' know."

"Can I?"

She shook her head and ruffled his hair, then went out and closed the door behind her. Anthony stood and went to stand beside the bed, looking at Todd, remembering once again what Todd had said on that first day in London—that Anthony was the only thing keeping him sane—and wishing he knew what to do.

He perched on the edge of the bed and pulled one of the limp hands free of the covers again. Todd _had_ been like this too long, almost an entire day now. He had to do something, even if he really didn't know what, before it was too late.

"Sir?" His voice cracked. He swallowed hard, and tried again. "Mr. Todd, sir, can you hear me at all? Do you know I'm here?"

Todd didn't even blink.

"I know you're hurting. I know it was…awful. I don't know how you could stand to…"

No, he thought, that was the wrong thing to say. He didn't want to remind Todd of the things that had happened in that house, whatever they were.

"Please, sir, please come back to me."

No, that was wrong too, because he wasn't the only one who needed Todd now. He wasn't even the one who needed Todd the _most_ now.

"Come back to _us,_" he amended. "To Johanna. You're all she has now."

Todd was all _he_ had too, but he didn't know if he should say that now, or ever again. Even if...when...Todd did recover, they could hardly have the relationship Anthony wanted. What they'd shared…that would have to end. Todd wouldn't want Johanna to know—to even suspect—the things they had done. The most he could ever hope to be to Todd now was his friend.

"She deserves a chance to get to know her father. To find out what a good man you are and how much you love her. And…"

He swallowed again, then said quickly, hoping it would be allowed, "And I don't know what _I'd_ do without you."

Todd's breath suddenly caught in his throat. His head jerked backwards against the pillow and his fingers closed around Anthony's, clutching them in a grip so tight it was almost painful. His eyelids closed, then opened again, and he turned his head with an obvious effort.

"Anthony?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes sir. I'm here."

Todd seemed to relax, hand dropping back onto his chest. "Thirsty."

Anthony hurried to pour some water into a glass, then lifted Todd's head, supporting him as he drank, until he moved his mouth away and muttered, "Enough."

Anthony set the glass aside and eased him back down, relieved to see that he looked alert. Alive.

"Anthony…" Todd licked his lips, and his gaze flickered away. "I'm sorry."

"I don't understand why you keep saying that, sir. What are you sorry about?"

Todd looked as if he were about to answer, but when he spoke, all he said was, "Johanna? Is she all right?"

"She's very worried about you, but otherwise she's fine. She's downstairs with Mrs. Lovett. Do you want me to get her?"

"No. Not…I just want…no." He shifted restlessly. "Hurts."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"You could..." The words slid into a sound of pain.

"What, sir?"

"Nothing." He looked down at himself. "I'm naked."

"Yes sir. Your clothing was…stained beyond repair."

"You didn't let Johanna see the scars?" His words were quick, anxious.

"No sir."

"Thank you." He took a deep breath, wincing at the movement. "I need to get dressed."

"Are you sure you feel up to it, sir?"

"Yes." Todd began to struggle to push himself up, his face tight with the effort. "Help me...please."

"Yes sir." Anthony eased him to a sitting position and put an arm around him for balance. Todd leaned against him for a moment, head against his shoulder, and it took all Anthony's willpower not to tighten his hold.

"Son..."

"Yes sir." Anthony didn't want to let go. "You have an extra shirt and trousers. I'll get them if you're able to…"

Todd drew away from him, sitting upright on the edge of the bed, swaying ever so slightly. "I'm able."

Although it was obviously painful, it was easy to slip Todd's arms into the shirt and button it across his chest. The trousers proved more difficult. Todd was panting and white with pain by the time he sank back and allowed Anthony to finish doing up the buttons.

"Thank you."

"Can I get you something to eat? Some soup or…?"

Todd shook his head.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

Todd's face spasmed with some emotion Anthony couldn't identify. He was silent for a moment, and then he breathed, "I heard Lucy."

"Sir?"

"In Turpin's house. I'd almost made it out, but I…fell. I couldn't move. I thought I was going to die. And then I heard her. Lucy. She came for me. Came to take me away. I couldn't see her, but I heard her voice. She was calling me."

Something clicked in Anthony's brain, and he went cold with a terrible suspicion. Todd had heard Lucy in the house. The beggar woman obviously had been in the house—or near it—since she'd saved him. The beggar woman had always said she knew Todd, but she couldn't remember how. That night, she'd called him Ben. Lucy had gone mad and been turned out onto the street. Mrs. Lovett had only supposed that Lucy was dead. What if…what if…

The pieces all fit, but the picture was too unthinkable even to begin to imagine.

"I should've died."

He pushed the dreadful thoughts aside and turned his attention back to Todd. "I'm glad you didn't, sir."

"Are you?"

He blinked at the question. "Of course I am."

"Even after what I did?"

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Was it...bad?"

Todd's head moved once.

"What happened, sir?"

"I did what I had to do. That was bad enough, but then Turpin…he fought me. Cut me before I could..."

Anthony didn't want to ask. He already knew the answer. "You killed him, didn't you?" he whispered.

"I killed them both." His voice was flat, without emotion.

"You...you went there _knowing_ you were going to..."

"Yes."

Anthony stared at him, unable to look away from the dark eyes that had seen too much, thinking about the terrible things Turpin had done to this family and how much he loved Todd. And he realized that if he had been given the opportunity, he would have killed Turpin himself, without a moment's hesitation.

Before he could speak, Todd's head drooped and he murmured, "I'm…tired."

"Rest then, sir. I'll lower the lamp."

Todd frowned slightly when Anthony settled back into the chair. "You're not going to try to sleep there?"

"I slept here last night. It's fine."

"There's room in the bed."

The offer was little more than an exhalation of breath. Anthony hesitated. He very much wanted to say yes, wanted to join Todd in the bed and hold him and touch him and tell him that nothing would ever hurt him again. But he was afraid that Todd wouldn't _want_ to be held or touched, not after all the things, known and unknown, that he'd had to endure at Turpin's hands, not when Johanna might walk in on them unannounced.

"I'm all right, sir. I don't want to disturb you."

"Anthony, you…" Something flashed across Todd's face, an expression gone before Anthony could decipher it. His lips parted and his brow furrowed. "You wouldn't."

Anthony _knew_ that was not what Todd had wanted to say. But he didn't know what to do, what to say, how to answer. And then it was too late. Todd's face seemed to turn to marble, his eyes shuttered, his mouth tight.

"I should've realized. Of course you wouldn't want to share a bed with someone who let two men use him and then killed them."

"Sir, I—"

"What else _could_ I do?" There was a fierce, terrible energy in his voice. "Were you really so naive that you thought you and Davy could take Johanna away and live happily ever after? Did you really think _he'd_ never come after her? The only way to stop him was to kill him, so he could never hurt her—hurt _anyone_—ever again."

"Mr. Todd..."

"Leave me," he snapped. With an obvious effort, he turned away from Anthony.

"But sir..."

"Get out."

"You shouldn't be alone—"

"I've been alone for the past fifteen years and I've been hurt far worse than this. Now get out. I don't need you."

"Sir..."

"Get _out_!"

There was something so terrifying in the force of that whisper that Anthony was on his feet and halfway to the door before he caught himself.

Todd's breathing had gone ragged, each exhalation a sound of pain that might almost have been a sob. Anthony wanted to go to him, but he didn't know what he could…or _should_…do. He'd failed Todd somehow, failed him badly, but he didn't know how.

He crept across the room and curled down into the corner beneath the sloping window. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them and spent the rest of the night trying to understand what he had done wrong.


	25. Chapter 22

Twenty-two

Many many apologies for taking so long to get this part finished and posted. I just couldn't seem to get this to work, and I wasn't going to share it until I was happy with it. I've come too far with these guys to let them down at this point—and I'm betting that anyone who's still with me feels the same way. I hope this is worth the wait, and I'll try to be a bit faster with the next one.

Huge thanks to everyone who's reading, and an even bigger thanks to those of you who have sent me such amazingly great reviews. Love and hugs to the tolerant and supportive Miss Becky for her beta skills and for her friendship.

Nobody here belongs to me, even if I _think_ they do. I'm not making any money and don't mean any copyright infringement. The usual warnings: spoilers for the movie/play, some m/m sexual activity, and a really bad Italian accent.

Enjoy!

o-o-o-o

_Twenty-two_

"Anthony…"

The word was a sound of pain—and a desperate cry for help. Anthony was on his feet in an instant, stumbling on legs that had gone numb from the hours of immobility, reaching the bedside just as Todd called his name again. Todd's head was thrashing from side to side, eyes tightly closed, lips drawn back in a grimace. A nightmare, and a bad one.

"Mr. Todd, sir? I'm here." He put a hand on Todd's shoulder.

With a whimper, Todd flung himself upward. Anthony caught him, wrapping his arms around the thin shoulders, holding him until the tremors shaking his body abruptly ceased and the muscles beneath Anthony's hands went tense.

"Are you awake, sir?" he asked unnecessarily.

"Yes." Todd's voice was unsteady, but he was already pulling away from Anthony in every way. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's all right, sir. Can I—"

"No." His tone had gone cold, forbidding, again.

There was a bright splash of blood on the sleeve of Todd's shirt. "You're bleeding. You may have torn your stitches. Can I see?"

"It's all right."

"Please, sir. I know you're angry with me, but please let me help you."

Todd looked up at him, startled. "I'm not..." He caught himself. "Go ahead then."

Anthony's fingers were clumsy as he unbuttoned Todd's shirt. He was terrified—more than terrified—of doing something else to make Todd lash out at him, but Todd sat quietly as Anthony pulled the shirt off his shoulder and carefully undid the bandage.

"Well?"

He jumped. "It's...it..."

"You don't need to be afraid of me, boy," he snapped. "I don't turn my razor on _every_ man that I've serviced. If I did, I'd be a murderer more times than I can count."

"Sir..."

"Oh yes." Something flickered in the dark eyes. "I forgot," he said bitterly. "I _did _turn it on you, didn't I? Threatened you and cut you and—"

"You didn't _mean_ to. It was an _accident_."

"Finish what you're doing," he said brusquely.

Anthony checked the wound, then redid the bandage, but when he started to pull the shirt back into place, Todd shook his head. "I can do it."

Anthony shifted from foot to foot, then blurted out, "Please, Mr. Todd, tell me what I've done wrong."

Todd sighed, and all his anger seemed to go away in a rush. "Nothing," he said tiredly. "You haven't done anything except be who you are."

"I don't understand."

"You're a good man, Anthony. A _decent_ man." Todd was struggling with the buttons of the shirt. "I'm not. Benjamin Barker was, but I... I'm a man who could deliberately cripple someone like Lewis. Murder Turpin and Bamford in cold blood, without a second's hesitation and without a second's remorse. It's natural that you would..."

He let his hands fall into his lap. "I shouldn't have spoken so harshly to you. I'm sorry. I _do_ understand."

Anthony wanted to say that _he_ didn't understand—didn't understand _anything—_but at that moment the door opened and he saw Johanna peeking in timidly.

"I thought I heard voices," she whispered.

He turned and tried to look as if she were welcome. "Come in. Mr. Todd's awake. I was just on my way to tell you."

He suspected she didn't even hear his lie. She was staring at Todd, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Father?"

"Johanna."

And then Todd smiled—a real smile, even if there still seemed to be a touch of sadness in his face—and held out his arms. She ran to him like a little girl, and he pulled her to his chest and hugged her so tightly that he gasped with pain.

"I'm hurting you." She tried to lean back, but he refused to let her go.

"You _couldn't_ hurt me. I've waited fifteen years for this."

She settled onto the bed and lay her head on his shoulder and whispered, "I have too."

"My precious little lamb."

Anthony could never have imagined he'd hear such tenderness—such _love_—in Todd's voice. Hearing it, watching them, _seeing_ the love, made his throat tighten with happiness and envy.

It was a moment too personal—too private—to be shared with anyone else, especially not with him. He backed away, out the door, pulling it shut behind him, and left them alone.

o-o-o-o

When Mrs. Lovett came in from the parlor, he was busy making the dough for the day's pies, kneading with perhaps more force than was necessary, trying not to think about what had happened—whatever it was that had happened—with Todd.

"Mornin', dearie."

"Good morning, mum."

She looked upward. "'e awake then?"

"Yes. Last night." He flipped the dough and attacked it with the rolling pin. "Johanna came up just now, so I left. I didn't want to be in their way."

"Wot's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

"Then why are y' tryin' t' kill that w' th' rollin' pin?" She leaned against his shoulder and gave him a quick pat on the back. "Tell me."

He took a deep breath. "I did something last night, Mrs. L. I upset him. He was hurting, and then he was angry...and I don't know what I did to cause it."

"Ah." She straightened. "'e's a hard 'un t' understand sometimes, ain't 'e. Did y' ever think lovin' 'im w's gonna be easy?"

"Don't!" he said quickly, glancing around to be sure they were alone. "He doesn't want Johanna to know that I...we...that there was ever anything like that between us."

She scowled. "Did _'e_ say that?"

"I...I don't remember, but surely he feels that way. He _couldn't_ want her to know. She's his _daughter_." His shoulders slumped. "And besides, there's _not_ anything. There never was. For a while I hoped maybe...but I was wrong."

"An' wot makes y' think that?"

"Because he keeps telling me he's not able to love, but when he spoke to her..." He sounded petty and childish even to himself.

"She's 'is baby, an' always will be. But jus' you remember, 'owever much 'e loves _'er_, it w's _you_ wot brought 'im out o' it, Anthony, not 'er."

"But it was me telling him how much _she_ needed him." Mrs. Lovett was reaching for a lump of dough. He took it away from her and began to roll it out himself and changed the subject. "As soon as I put this batch in the oven, I need to go to the market."

"A' right then. And be sure t' drop by an' check on Johanna's 'usband an' tell 'im Mr. T's awake." She grinned. "Tell 'im I said t' come 'round f' supper when 'e's done barberin'."

"Yes mum."

Grateful for the excuse to get away, he hurriedly finished, then, after pausing for a quick, longing, glance toward the top of the stairs, he set out for the market.

o-o-o-o

Anthony could hear Connor's voice from fifteen stalls away. "Si, si, Meester Todda hasa gone on a treep to my home eena Italia to train weetha the man who taughta me all that I know. Anda when he returns, we weela have another contest to see how mucha he hasa learned."

When he glanced over and saw Anthony, he threw his hands in the air and cried, "Antonio! My frienda!" He bounded off the platform and caught Anthony's shoulders and, under the pretense of kissing him on both cheeks, murmured, "Everything okay?"

"He's awake."

Connor gave a sigh of relief, then released Anthony and bowed toward the half-shaved man in the barber chair. "Eefa you weela indulge me for a moment, so that I maya speak weetha my frienda, I weela make your shave for free."

"Of course, signor."

"Grazie, grazie." Connor drew Anthony around toward the side of the wagon so they could talk. Anthony had to fight to repress the sickness he felt at the memory of being there only a few days before and seeing...

"Is he all right? I mean...all right?"

Anthony knew exactly what he meant. "He is. Johanna's sitting with him now."

"Thank God. I was afraid we were going to lose him."

"I was too."

Connor's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'd have thought you'd be a lot happier."

"I am happy. It's just..."

"What?"

Anthony desperately wanted to talk with Connor, tell him what had happened, see if _he_ understood what had gone wrong, but this was neither the time nor the place. "It's nothing."

Connor regarded him for a heartbeat, then let it go. "I'm glad you came by. I had a visit earlier this morning from Judge Wilson."

"Trouble?"

"They want to have a memorial service for the Honorable Judge Turpin." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Can't have a proper funeral, since there's nothing left of him but ashes, so they decided this would be the next best thing."

"Why did he come to tell you?"

"Because Turpin's ward is my new bride, remember. We eloped Saturday evening."

"Oh." With everything that had happened in the past few hours, he _had_ forgotten.

"To-bee!" He waved Toby over. "Give Anthony some money. Make it a twenty, just in case." Toby scurried off, and he went on, "Ask Mrs. Lovett if she'll take Johanna out to find a dress that's suitably mournful, so we can go talk to them tomorrow about the service."

"Mrs. L wanted me to tell you to come for supper anyway."

"Perfect." He raised his voice. "Until we meeta again."

Anthony waited until Toby had brought him the bills, then ruffled the boy's hair and left to get on with his errands.

o-o-o-o

Johanna came down just after the lunch crowd had gone, a soft, contented smile on her face. Mrs. Lovett was wiping down one of the tables, but she paused to ask, "'ow's 'e doin' then?"

"Resting. I thought I'd see if I could help you any way."

Anthony's hands clenched briefly. He wanted to grab her and send her back, tell her that Todd shouldn't be left alone just now, in case he had another nightmare, or, better yet, go to be with Todd himself. He took a half step toward the steps.

"If y' want t' pick up th' plates an' carry 'em in t' th' wash, that'd be fine."

Johanna began to gather them, but her movements slowed and she glanced back toward the window above them. "It's hard to believe he's real. I never dreamed I'd have a father who loved me so much."

Anthony froze. It wasn't his place to go look after Todd. Todd belonged to Johanna now, not to him. Todd had _never_ belonged to him.

"Anthony? Is something wrong?"

"No." Then he remembered. "Yes. I stopped by to see Davy this morning."

Johanna's cheeks went pink, but her voice was calm as she asked, "And how is my dear husband?"

Stepping closer to them, Anthony repeated what Connor had told him about the memorial service and the proper attire. "Do you think you can find a dress?"

Mrs. Lovett nodded. "I know just th' place. If y' don't mind finishin' up 'ere, we can be there an' back in a tic." She grinned. "Maybe two. Let me get m' 'at."

Johanna watched her walk away, then looked up at Anthony. He was sorry to see that much of the joy had left her face.

"Is it wrong of me that I don't care?" She twisted her hands together. "He was my guardian—the only family I've ever known until now. I should feel _something_, shouldn't I? Something besides...relief."

He hesitated. "Judge Turpin wasn't a good man."

"He's the one who had Father sent away, wasn't he?"

She was staring at him so intently—so much like Todd could—that he found it impossible to lie to her, even though he wasn't sure that he should tell her the truth. "Yes."

"Why?"

"You need to ask him that. Mr. Todd."

"Will he tell me?"

"I think so." At least some of it. And with that thought came the memory of the things Todd had said the night before about the beggar woman.

"What is it, Anthony? You look so strange."

"Nothing." He smiled at her. "I'll go check in on Mr. Todd while you're gone and tell him you'll be back."

"Thank you." And _her_ smile was back. "He's so very precious to me."

Anthony wouldn't allow himself even to think, "And to me too."

o-o-o-o

Todd was sleeping when he quietly pushed open the door to peer in, head turned to the side, mouth open ever so slightly, breathing deeply. Anthony took a few steps toward the bed, to make sure everything seemed all right, then went back downstairs and began to make the pies for supper.

He went back a half-dozen times more before Johanna and Mrs. Lovett returned, creeping up the stairs, looking in to see that nothing had changed, and then creeping back down again. Johanna had bought some soup from one of the shops down the street. She left Mrs. Lovett to deal with the dress and took it upstairs to Todd, and didn't come back.

o-o-o-o

Connor and Toby arrived toward the end of the supper rush, Toby heading for the food and Connor going straight upstairs. A few minutes later, Johanna came into the shop, giggling, and set to work gathering up the discarded plates.

Toby had finished his second pie and was reaching for a third before Connor joined them. Mrs. Lovett grinned at him and gestured toward the table. "C'n I get y' a pie, love?"

"If Toby's left any."

"I'm a growin' boy," he protested.

"You are that." Connor looked toward Anthony for a moment, frowning slightly, as if perplexed. "Anthony, did you mean—"

"Here you are, sir." It was Johanna who delivered the pie. Connor took it from her with one hand and used the other to lift her fingers to his lips.

"Thank you, my dear. Will you join me?"

She nodded and slid into the bench. He set the plate on the table and settled down beside her.

"Davy?"

He waved Anthony away with a quick, "Later," and set about simultaneously eating and charming Johanna.

o-o-o-o

Connor called for Toby and left before Anthony had a chance to find out what it was that he had wanted to ask. As soon as he was gone, Johanna vanished back upstairs again. Mrs. Lovett shook her head and stacked up their dishes.

"Business stays this good, we outta think about getting' us a lad like Toby t' clean up."

"Yes mum."

"Prob'ly couldn't find one like 'im, though."

"No mum."

"Still broodin' 'bout Mr. T?"

"No," he lied. "I was wondering if I could take the blankets back upstairs—the ones we used to make a bed before...before. If you don't need them, that is."

"Y' plannin' on sleepin' on th' floor again?"

"Yes mum."

"Why? Somethin' wrong w' th' bed?"

"I just don't think I should..."

"Did _'e_ say 'e didn't want y' in 'is bed?"

"No, but if Johanna should see... I don't want her to think..."

She stopped and put her arms around his neck, not caring that she was dripping soap and water down his back. "I wish I c'd 'elp y', Anthony."

He hugged her tightly. "I do too, mum."

"I love y', boy. An' 'e does too."

Anthony shook his head and abruptly pulled away. "Can I borrow a pillow too?"

She sighed and nodded and went back to her work.

o-o-o-o

Anthony waited until Johanna had come downstairs and gone into the little room where Mrs. Lovett had set up a cot for her, then gathered up the bedding and made his way back upstairs.

Todd was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Anthony quietly closed the door and crossed the room and began to make up his bed.

"I'm not asleep."

He pushed the last blanket into place, then rose and turned to face Todd. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"Like a father, I dare say." He shook his head. "All those years, dreaming of seeing my baby again, I never imagined she'd be so…exhausting."

"It's only natural that you'd tire easily now, because you're hurt."

Todd made a non-committal sound. "She had so many questions. She wanted to know about Benjamin Barker, and about Lucy, and how we met, and what she was like, and when we were married. Things I hadn't thought about in years. It was..." He shivered. "Too many old memories."

"But surely they were _good_ memories."

"It was so long ago. It was another life. I felt as if I were talking about another man, not me. I'm a fraud. I'm not her father. Her father's dead."

"No sir, he's still very much alive, only changed by time, just like _she's_ been changed by time."

"But _she_ changed for the better."

"Mr. Todd..." He dared to go and perch on the edge of the bed. "Johanna may not have had a _happy_ life, but she's had an _easy_ life. You haven't. Very few men could have endured—much less survived—all that you have and still be such a _good_ man. You haven't changed for the worse, sir. You've only changed."

"Do you believe that?" Todd straightened slightly, and there was something in his face that Anthony couldn't identify, something almost...yearning. "Do you _really_ think I'm a good man, after all I've done?"

"Of course, sir. I know you are."

"Thank you, son. That means a great deal to me." Todd sank back. "She wanted to know why Turpin had me sent away."

"I thought she might."

"I told her that he'd wanted her mother, so he got me out of the way. That seemed to satisfy her for now. And then..." He took a ragged breath. "She asked about Australia."

That surprised Anthony. "She did?"

"I never thought she'd want to know anything about...that. She caught me off guard."

"What did you tell her?"

"What _could_ I tell her?" There was too much pain in his voice. Anthony wanted to reach out to him, to touch his arm, to hold him. "I told her that it was very hot and that they forced us to work like animals. She must realize that it was no paradise, but dear God, how could I tell her about the things I had to do? The things they did to me? The things…" He looked up at Anthony. "The things I told you."

"She'll never hear about them from me, sir," he said earnestly. "It's between us."

"I know. I trust you. I..." He faltered.

"Sir?"

"I need to rest."

"Yes sir. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No. Nothing." Todd eased down in the bed, shifting, as if trying to make himself comfortable. The expression on his face told Anthony that he was failing.

"Perhaps if you put this here, sir." He retrieved the pillow he'd brought up for himself and slid it under Todd's arm for support. "Does that help?"

"Yes. Thank you." The line between Todd's eyes eased. "Where are you going to sleep tonight? Not in the corner again, I hope."

"No sir. I'm making my bed over there, so I can be nearby if you need me." He pulled the quilt up and gently tucked the edges around Todd.

"We can at least still be friends, can't we, Anthony?" Todd whispered.

"Of course we can, sir. I hope I can always call you friend."

"I'd hate to lose your friendship too." He closed his eyes.

Anthony sat there until he was sure Todd was asleep. Only then did he allow himself to reach out and lightly stroke a pale cheek. Todd sighed, and he turned his face into the touch. Alarmed, Anthony jerked his hand away, then forced himself to stand and go to his bed on the floor.


	26. Chapter 23

Once again, apologies for taking so long

Once again, apologies for taking so long. I won't bore anyone with the reasons, just hope that the end of this journey (which _is_ in sight, and I'm serious this time because I'm writing it now) is worth the wait.

Characters don't belong to me and I'm not making any money off them, although sometimes I _am_ having fun with them. Sometimes. Thank you to my beta and cheerleader Miss Becky, and a super thank you to everyone who's sent encouraging words my way. I love you all!

o-o-o-o-o

_Twenty-three_

Todd had another nightmare in the middle of the night. He was awake by the time Anthony reached him, swallowing back the sounds he had been making, waving Anthony away, rolling onto his side and turning his back dismissively. Anthony hovered over him for a moment, wanting to touch him, wanting to hold him, knowing he could do neither, then sighed and went back to his pallet on the floor.

When he woke again, Todd seemed to be deeply asleep, his breathing even and quiet, his face relaxed. Anthony pulled on his clothes and picked up his shoes and slipped out of the room to go to the pie shop and begin the day's work.

o-o-o-o-o

As soon as the baking was underway, he poured a mug of tea and added a bit of extra sugar, then leaned toward the door to the living quarters.

"Mrs. L, can you keep an eye on the pies while I take this up to Mr. Todd?"

She bustled in from the back. "Just 'elpin' Johanna w' 'er new dress. Ain't never seen s' many buttons up th' back o' one in m' life."

"Yes mum."

"A'right, I'm here, go on."

He called a quick, "Thank you," over his shoulder as he hurried up the stairs.

Todd was sitting up, his face pale and drawn, his fingers moving restlessly on the blanket covering him. He glanced up as Anthony came in and almost smiled.

"Good morning, Mr. Todd." Anthony crossed to him and held out the mug. "I thought you might like this."

Todd took it with a nod of thanks, sipped, then began to roll the mug between his palms, as if trying to warm his hands.

"Are you cold, sir? There are extra blankets if you—"

"No. Not cold. Just…" He shuddered.

Anthony thought he understood. "Was it a very bad dream, sir?"

"Worse than a dream. A memory."

"I'm sorry. I wish there were something I could do."

"You could—" Todd caught himself. His bottom lip slid between his teeth, and Anthony saw them close quickly, biting hard, biting back whatever he had almost said.

"What, sir? What could I do?"

"Nothing." He raised the mug to his mouth and sipped again.

Much as he wanted to pursue the matter, Todd's expression told him to let it go. "If you think you could eat something today, I'll make some soup. Or broth. Or even a special pie."

"Broth perhaps, later. I'll need to eat if I ever want to regain my strength." Todd hesitated, then murmured, "Where's my razor?"

"I took them downstairs to Mrs. L, like you asked. I'll bring them up when I come back."

"Not those." He began to turn the cup again, studying the liquid inside with an unwarranted intensity. "The one I had with me."

"Oh." The memory of that blood-caked razor made Anthony's stomach turn. "It's..." He nodded toward the dresser.

"I suppose it needs to be cleaned."

"Yes sir. I'll get it for you." He opened the drawer where he'd put it that night, but he couldn't bring himself to touch it. Picking up the rag that was usually hanging from Todd's belt, he wrapped it around the razor and carried it back to Todd.

Todd leaned over to set the mug on the floor, then took it. "I suppose you think I should get rid of it, since it's been defiled."

It seemed an odd word to describe an inanimate object, but Anthony only said, "No sir. I'm sure it can be cleaned and be good as new."

"_It_ can be."

Anthony was about to ask what he meant by that when there was a quick knock on the door and Johanna bounced in. Todd instantly shoved the razor beneath the covers, out of sight.

She bent to place a kiss on his cheek, then held her arms out and spun like a little girl. "I came to show you my new dress before we go. How do you like it?"

Todd's brow furrowed. "It's black."

"Of course it is."

"You'd look better in blue."

"I know. Blue's my favorite color. I'm too fair to wear black, but…" She sighed. "I have to be appropriately somber when Davy and I meet with Judge Wilson this morning."

Todd's frown deepened. "Why are you meeting with a judge?"

"To help plan the memorial service for Judge Turpin."

Anthony spoke up quickly. "You were asleep while Johanna was gone yesterday, sir, and I forgot to tell you last night." He was beginning to realize that forgetting—that assuming that Johanna had told him—had been a bad mistake. "Some of the other members of the court want to hold a service for Judge Turpin."

Todd went very still. "For _Turpin?_ For that—"

A voice from below interrupted him. "Johanna? Y' 'usband's 'ere w' th' coach!"

"Oh." She giggled and touched her hair. "I need to get my veil. I'll come see you when we get back." She gave him another quick kiss and was gone.

Anthony hardly noticed her departure. He was watching Todd's eyes narrow, watching his face go tight with a frightening rage.

"Sir? Is everything—"

"Stop asking me that!" Todd turned on him, voice as harsh as a blow. "Are you an idiot? Do you really _think_ everything's all right?" He flung back the covers and tried to stand, hissing with fury when his legs buckled. "Helpless. Useless." He snarled, at himself, at Anthony. "A _memorial_ _service._ For the man that raped her mother. Raped me. The man I... Christ!" He raked his hands down his chest so hard Anthony was afraid he'd do himself harm, and his mouth twisted. "I can still _feel_ him. Smell his filthy stench on my skin."

"Sir..."

"And _you_—" Todd grabbed the mug and flung it at Anthony. He ducked, and it shattered against the wall.

Anthony felt as if he were reeling in the face of Todd's anger. His lips formed the words, "What have _I_ done, sir?", but no sound emerged.

Todd snatched up the razor and carelessly flipped the blade open. Anthony saw it catch on skin, saw the quick flash of blood as Todd tore it free and began to flip it, shut, then open, then shut, his hands shaking with agitation.

"Don't you have work to do downstairs?" he barked. When Anthony hesitated, he jerked his head toward the door and snapped, "Get out."

Part of him—the cowardly part—wanted to do just that, wanted to run and hide in the pie shop and not come back until Johanna had come home to deal with Todd's evil mood. But he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he left Todd alone, his friend would do himself some harm, either by accident or on purpose.

"No sir."

Todd froze. "I said get out."

"No sir." He crossed the room, ever mindful of the blade in Todd's hand, glad that it was closed at the moment. He gestured. "You're bleeding."

"As if you'd care."

Anthony saw what he meant to do and, before Todd could move again, he was on his knees before him, grasping the thin wrists in his hands, holding him still. Todd was too shocked even to try to struggle.

"I do care. You know I care. Please, Mr. Todd. Please."

The rage slid away from Todd as quickly as it had come. "Anthony..." The razor dropped to the floor. He turned his hand in Anthony's grasp, and his fingers tightened briefly around Anthony's. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I understand."

"You couldn't." There was pain—more than pain—in his face now. "I feel so…so unclean."

"Davy and I tried to wash the blood off you, but there was so much…"

"It's not the blood."

"Oh." Anthony felt the back of his eyes sting with tears and tried to blink them away. He felt very foolish. He knew—guessed—what sort of things had happened in the Judge's house that night. Little wonder that Todd felt unclean. Little wonder that he had used the word defiled to describe his razor. He had been talking about himself as well as the blade.

"I don't know what to do, sir." He wasn't surprised to realize that his voice was unsteady. "Do you want me to heat some water and help you wash? Would that...help?"

Todd shook his head. "I daresay there's not enough soap and water in all of London to ever make me feel clean again."

"Is there _anything_ that will help you?"

Todd stared at Anthony and for a moment there was something in his expression that was sharper than any of his razors. Then it blurred, faded, was gone. Once again, he'd seemed on the verge of saying something important, but at last all he whispered was, "Time."

"I wish…"

"So do I, boy. So do I." He pulled his hands free and leaned back wearily.

Anthony took a deep breath. "Did you cut yourself?

Todd shrugged.

"May I see?" He rose and perched on the edge of the bed and took Todd's hand.

"Who'd've thought the blade would be that sharp after all the work it did?" Todd muttered.

"It's just a scratch." He bent to pick up the razor. "If you'll tell me how, I'll clean it for you."

"No." Todd reached for it. Anthony reluctantly handed it over. "I'll do it."

"May I sit here with you then? For just a moment or two?"

"I'll be careful. I won't cut myself again."

"I know, but...please?"

"Don't you have pies baking?"

"If Mrs. L doesn't know when to take them out, then they can burn."

"You overestimate her skill in the kitchen, boy."

Anthony laughed. And, to his surprise, so did Todd.

o-o-o-o-o

"They were all for having the service on Saturday, but I told them it would be more proper to hold it on the Sabbath."

Johanna giggled. "You should've seen how pious he was, crossing himself and gazing up to Heaven. It was all I could do to keep a straight face."

Connor snorted. "Saturday's my busiest day, and I'm not closing down twice in one week for that—" He caught himself. "Begging your pardon, Miss Johanna."

"Granted, Signor."

The pies hadn't burned, but it had been a near thing. By way of apology, Mrs. Lovett had offered to make the daily trip to the market, and Anthony had let her, not wanting to leave Todd alone for too long. When Johanna and Connor had come back and gone upstairs to share the latest news with Todd, Anthony had followed, making sure to lean against the wall in a place where he could watch Todd's face and try to avoid a repeat of the earlier outburst.

"They wanted me to speak at the service," Johanna went on. "Talk about what a kind and generous guardian he'd been..."

Todd's mouth went tight and Anthony saw one of his hands clench, but he remained silent.

"But I told them I couldn't bear to. That it would be too painful."

"And it was all _I_ could do to keep a straight face during _that_," Connor added.

"We decided on Sunday at half past two, at St. Paul's." She glanced toward Todd. She'd settled on the end of his bed when they'd come in, but Anthony had noticed that she only had eyes for Connor. "Do you think you'll be all right, Father? Anthony and Mrs. Lovett can look after you and—"

"I'm not an invalid," he growled.

She blinked, startled at his tone, and Anthony decided it was time to step in. "I'm sure she didn't mean it that way, sir. It's just that you _have_ been badly hurt, and she's worried about you."

"No," she whispered. "I didn't mean..."

"I'm sorry." Todd lowered his head, but not before Anthony saw the stricken look on his face. Connor must have seen it too, because he straightened and held out a hand.

"Let's go see if Mrs. Lovett's come back yet, so you can get out of that ridiculous dress."

She dragged her gaze away from Todd and turned it toward Anthony. He gave her a quick nod, and she rose.

"I'll be back later?" She made it a question.

Todd's head moved once in assent. She took Connor's hand and left, throwing anxious glances over her shoulder.

"She probably wishes she'd never met me," Todd said bitterly.

"I'm sure she understands, sir. And she truly didn't mean—"

"I _know_, but I still..." He drew in a ragged breath and muttered, almost to himself, "It would've been better for all of you if I _had_ died in the fire."

"Please don't say that, sir. I don't know what I...what we'd have done if..."

Todd shook his head, but all he said was, "Ask Johanna to come back up if she wants to, so I can apologize to her."

"Yes sir."

"And will you do something for me?"

"Anything, sir."

"If Johanna forgives me—"

"She will, sir. When you love someone, you forgive them, and Johanna loves you very much."

"Then..." Todd's voice caught for some reason Anthony couldn't understand. "Would you mind going to the book stall across the street and see if you can find something that she can read to me while she's up here?"

Anthony felt another pang of jealousy, wishing that he'd been given the task of reading to Todd. "Of course, sir. I'm sure that would be very soothing."

Todd made a sound that was close to a snort. "If she's reading, she won't be asking so damn many questions."

"Oh."

When he continued to stand there, staring, Todd waved a hand and said impatiently, "Go on."

"Yes sir."

o-o-o-o-o

He was filling the bottom crusts for the evening's pies when Johanna came in, wearing the dress Mrs. Lovett had loaned her. She joined Anthony at the table and glanced up through her lashes in a way that should've been flirtatious but seemed more frightened.

"Father was...upset." Her voice was low, subdued.

Anthony forced himself to smile reassuringly. "It's just that he feels helpless right now. He doesn't like being ill."

"And he didn't like me going off to plan a memorial service for the man he hated so much, did he?"

He began to cover the pies with the top crust and pinch the edges together. "No."

She looked around as if to be sure they were alone, then moved closer to him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What happened last Saturday? Between Father and Judge Turpin?"

He tried to keep his voice even as he lied, "I don't know."

"But you must have _some_ idea. You told me that Father was in the house, distracting them while you took me away. Then there was a fire and they were dead. Anthony, did he kill them?"

"I don't know," he repeated.

She put a hand on his arm. "I think you do. Please, tell me."

"You have to ask Mr. Todd, Johanna. He's the only one who can answer your questions, truly."

"I can't. He seemed so…so fierce today. He almost frightened me."

"Don't!" he said quickly. "Don't be afraid of him. That would hurt him so much, for you to be afraid of him. He loves you."

"I know, but…"

Anthony struggled to find the words to explain without giving away too much. "Mr. Todd has…dark moods sometimes, when he seems…not himself. When he seems angry. Hateful. Be patient with him. It'll pass."

"Has he been angry with you too?"

"Many times."

"But you always forgive him."

"Yes, Johanna. Always."

"Then I will too." She seemed more cheerful. "Do you think he'd mind if I went up to visit with him for a while now? Now that I'm not wearing the black dress?"

"I'm sure he'd be glad of your company." And then he remembered. "But first, let me put these in to bake and then let's go over to the bookstall. He said he'd like it if you'd read to him."

"Oh yes, I'd love to. Let's!"

o-o-o-o-o

Thoughts of the beggar woman worried at his subconscious all week—the things Todd had said, the things she had said, the thing he feared the most. He still had no idea what he'd say to her, what he'd do if she were Lucy, but when she hadn't shown up for her usual handout by Friday, Anthony knew he had to go looking for her. One way or the other, he had to know.

Instead of going to the market, he went to the docks, where they'd first seen her. He'd been roaming the area, questioning some of the people he met along the way, for almost half an hour when a sailor waved him over.

"You lookin' for work, mate?"

"No, I'm looking for a woman."

The sailor laughed crudely. "Ain't we all?"

Anthony blushed. "Not that kind. Well…maybe that kind, but that's not why I want to find her."

A second man came to join them. "Y' lookin' for someone, eh?"

"Yes. A beggar woman who was here sometimes. She always wore a hat with a brim like..." He gestured.

"He's talkin' about crazy old Lou."

"Sounds like."

Lou...Lucy... "Do you know where I can find her?"

He spat to the side. "Wherever it is they take bodies when there ain't nobody to claim them, I'd guess."

Anthony felt as if someone had grabbed him with an icy hand. He barely managed to whisper, "Sir?"

The sailor pointed. "Somebody found her in the alley down there last Sunday morning."

"You mean she's…" He couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"Dead. Yeah, that's what happens when you drink poison. Still had the bottle in her hand when they found her. Crazy ol' woman."

Anthony barely had the presence of mind to thank the men before walking away in a daze. He sank down onto the first bench he came to and clasped his hands in front of him and tried to pray, although at that moment he quite understood why Todd no longer believed in God.

They were wrong. Poison didn't _always_ kill you. Lucy Barker had drunk poison and lived. Lived...oh God, had she lived all these years, like that, Todd's beautiful beloved Lucy...

"_I know him."_

"_Saved him...my Ben..."_

_Todd's head turning in her direction and his whispered, "Lucy..."_

"_I heard Lucy. She came for me. I couldn't see her, but I heard her."_

Had she finally come out of her madness enough to realize _how_ she knew Todd? Had she seen her husband and child and realized what she'd become and not been able to bear it? Had she drunk poison—again—to take herself out of their lives so they'd never know?

"_No, love. Not your Lucy. Just a crazy old woman."_

"_You take good care of him for me, boy. You take good care of her too. Promise me."_

"_Be happy."_

Or was she just what she'd seemed to be, a crazed beggar who sold herself, who knew Benjamin Barker from all those years ago, who'd been in the right place to save him. He could wonder, he could guess, he could speculate, but he'd never _know_.

He bowed his head and wept—for Lucy, for Benjamin Barker, for the life that had been torn apart. And he wept because he had never once thought to stop and question her, to really _look_ at her, to try to find out _why_ she kept insisting she knew Todd.

o-o-o-o-o

"Somethin' wrong, dearie?" Mrs. Lovett touched his shoulder and leaned forward a bit to look into his face. "Y' been awful quiet since y' got back."

For a moment, Anthony thought about taking her into the back room where they couldn't be overheard and telling her everything. He knew she'd gladly share his burden and, most likely, reassure him that it hadn't been his fault, and that the woman couldn't _possibly_ have been Lucy Barker. But he couldn't. Like the terrible things Todd had told him about the Australian prison, this was _his_ secret to keep.

He smiled. "I'm just a little tired. I haven't been sleeping well. I suppose I've gotten used to a bed and gone soft."

She didn't return his smile. "There's a bed up there w' room f' two."

"I don't think Mr. Todd wants me to sleep with him." He blushed. "I mean…"

"I know wot y' mean." She shook her head. "Dangerous business, son, tryin' t' guess wot somebody else wants or don't want. 'Specially when it's _'im_."

"Yes mum. I know, but..."

She dropped her hand. "Will y' 'elp me fill up th' tub t'morrow afternoon? Johanna wants t' take a proper bath."

"Of course, mum." He turned to put the tray into the oven, then stopped and set it back down on the counter as an idea came to him. "Mrs. L, when Johanna finishes, could we just empty the water and leave the tub there?"

"Y' wantin' a bath too?"

"I think Mr. Todd might enjoy one. It might make him feel...better."

"Ah, yah, tha's a good idea." She winked. "Y' get 'im alone down there an' all naked an' _then_ y'll be able t' sort out all y' problems."

He blushed again. "No mum. It's not like that. Not at all."

"Pity. From th' looks o' Mr. T these days, I'd say 'e could use a good—"

"Mrs. Lovett!"

Her face became serious. "Don't y' see it, Anthony? 'ow unhappy 'e is? 'e's as miserable as you are."

"You're imagining things."

"Am I?"

"I'm sure he's very happy. He has Johanna, and that's what he wanted most in the world."

"Are y' sure 'bout that?"

"Yes mum." He lifted the tray again and turned to the oven. "I'm sure."

o-o-o-o-o

"I don't want her to go."

Todd had been on edge all morning. The sound of the carriage arriving a few minutes before, of Connor calling up a greeting before he collected Johanna, of the horses trotting away, had only made it worse.

"Nor do I, sir. Nor does _she_. But she has no choice. Besides, it'll be over soon and then we can forget all about him."

"I'll _never_ be able to forget him. One way or another, he managed to steal everything I ever cared about."

"But it was years ago, sir, and you have Johanna now."

"It wasn't _all_ years ago." There was something heartbreakingly sad in Todd's voice. Anthony decided to change the subject.

"If you feel up to a short walk, sir, I have something that might make you feel a little better."

"What?"

"I've been down in the bakehouse, filling the tub with hot water. It should be cool enough by now. I thought perhaps you might like a bath."

Todd's brow furrowed. For a long moment, Anthony thought he had done the wrong thing again, but then Todd gave one of his almost smiles. "A bath?"

"Yes sir."

"I'd like that." He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. In the past few days he'd been trying to stand, to walk, but he was still unsteady on his feet. Anthony moved to his side and held out his arm.

"May I help you?"

"Please."

o-o-o-o-o

With Todd leaning on his shoulder for support, the trip down the two flights of stairs was easier than he'd thought it might be. Todd's steps faltered when he saw the tub setting invitingly near the oven's warmth.

"Mrs. L is going to stand guard over the door...so to speak...so you won't be disturbed." He stopped, and Todd lowered his arm. "Do you need help with..." He gestured.

"I think I can manage."

Todd straightened and slowly began to strip away his clothing. Anthony took each piece and put it aside to be washed, trying not to look at Todd, trying not to think about what Mrs. Lovett had said. "I brought some clean things for you, for after. Mrs. L said she'd see to these"

"Thank you." Todd touched the metal rim and started to raise a foot to step in.

"Here, sir." Anthony moved quickly to help him. "I don't quite trust your balance yet."

"Thank you." With Anthony's assistance, he carefully lowered himself, sighing as the water closed over his body. "It's warm."

"Yes sir, and I can heat more if need be." Anthony nodded toward the oven.

"No. This is...fine."

"There's a cloth and some soap."

Todd took it and began to work up a lather. "I wonder if I have the strength to scrub hard enough," he muttered.

"No sir, you mustn't do that! You'll break open your wounds."

"Does it matter?" He looked down at his chest, then at his arm, where the black stitches stood out even among the other marks, and he made a sound of disgust. "More scars."

"No sir, _those_ are marks of...of valor. Of honor."

"Marks of carelessness. I didn't do anything honorable to get these." Todd slid further down into the water and let his arms drop to his sides. "I'm weaker than I thought."

"Do you want me to...to help you, sir?"

"Would you mind?"

"Not at all, sir." He quickly unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up above his elbows, then knelt beside the tub.

"Maybe _you_ can wash me clean again."

"I..." He had no idea what to say to that, so he dipped a hand into the water, checking the temperature. "Do you want me to wash your hair?"

"If you like."

"Tilt your head back." He cupped his hands and began to bring up water and pour it over Todd's hair, again and again, until it was thoroughly wet, then held out a bottle and wrinkled his nose. "Mrs. L gave me this. It may be too flowery for your taste."

Todd gave a half-interested sniff. "No. It's fine."

Anthony had never really had Todd's hair in his hands—not like this. The curls tangled around his fingers like living creatures eager to ensnare him, clinging to the shape of Todd's skull when he released them, the white streak almost glowing among the dark mass. He made sure the soap was thoroughly rinsed away, then moved on.

Todd's eyes had closed as his fingers had combed through the tangle, washing. They remained closed as he re-lathered the cloth and began to slide it across Todd's back, side to side, up and down. With another sigh, Todd rolled slightly, allowing Anthony to smooth the cloth down the rest of the way, across his lower back and taut buttocks. Anthony struggled to remain passive, not to think of how it had felt when he'd done more than touch Todd there, when he'd...

No. He shouldn't…he couldn't…he _mustn't_ think those things, not anymore.

When he slid his hand down Todd's chest, pressing as hard as he dared, being careful as he skimmed over the cuts and around the stitches, Todd leaned back against him, tilting his head until it rested on Anthony's shoulder. Anthony suddenly found it hard to breathe.

"Shall I…" His voice broke like a schoolboy's.

"Whatever you want."

And he wanted, oh God, how he wanted. He pressed his cheek against the wet mass of hair and tried not to think of all the things he wanted. And then Todd's face turned toward him, so close they shared breath, so close they could've kissed. Todd's eyes were open, lips parted, almost as if he were inviting that kiss.

Anthony's hand slid below the water, and Todd made a low sound of pain or pleasure. His head went heavier against Anthony's shoulder for a heartbeat...

And then he suddenly jerked upright and made a startled noise, his hands moving quickly through the water to push Anthony's away and cover himself protectively. Anthony flushed crimson with embarrassment as he realized where his wandering hand had been going. He dropped the rag and stumbled to his feet, backing away, trying to form an apology.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Todd. I wasn't going to...I didn't mean…" The expression of total shock on Todd's face silenced him.

Todd took a deep breath, then another, and, when he spoke, his voice was rough with some emotion. "I...I'll finish."

Sick with shame, Anthony could only nod. He stood staring at the oven, back to the tub, until at last Todd said, "I'm ready." When he turned to help Todd out of the tub and hand him the toweling, he carefully averted his eyes, and kept them that way until Todd said quietly, "It's all right. You can look now. I'm dressed."

He didn't know what to say, what to do. Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around Todd's waist to help him back up the stairs. Todd's muscles were almost rigid with tension, the very opposite of what he had hoped the bath would do. And it was his fault.

Todd eased down onto the bed with a quiet, "Thank you, son," then turned toward the wall, shutting him out again. Anthony stood there for a moment, staring, wishing, and then went back down to empty the water.


	27. Chapter 23a

…

…

The usual: They don't belong to me, I don't mean to stomp about on anyone's copyright, and I'm certainly not making any money from this. Thanks to everyone who's still with me and an enormous thanks to Miss Becky, for betas and for everything.

We're almost through here, but first, one last quick sideways jump into the minds of some other characters.

o-o-o-o-o

_Twenty-three A: Quintet_

_Ironic I_

Even though he wanted to turn his face into his pillow and weep with frustration, he could appreciate the _irony_ of the situation.

Finally, amazingly, his body had chosen to overcome all its painfully learned lessons. Anthony's fingers working in his hair had been so soothing, so relaxing, that he'd forgotten himself, forgotten their changed circumstances, forgotten _everything_. When Anthony's hand had slid beneath the water, almost touching him, he had gone unexpectedly hard for the first time in fifteen years. Thank God he had been able to keep the boy from realizing what had happened. It was ironic that it had happened just a week too late.

And it was ironic that now, when he was ready to be what Anthony wanted, the only thing Anthony wanted was to be his friend.

He couldn't fault the boy for his changed feelings. _He_ was repulsed—disgusted—by the things he'd done. How could he expect Anthony not to be? Anthony had seen the truth at last, had realized that his feelings were just a foolish infatuation. He'd enjoyed the sex, of course, like any young man, but God knew that Anthony could easily enough find a better outlet for _those_ needs. Someone younger. Cleaner. _Fresher_.

He hadn't realized how much Anthony's regard—Anthony's misplaced _love_—had meant to him until it was gone. He was startled at how much it hurt, so deeply and in ways that he didn't understand, because it wasn't love that he was feeling for the boy, no matter what Davy had said. But it wasn't just gratitude either, not any more. He was _fond_ of Anthony. He enjoyed the boy's company—always had, from the day he'd woken up on the _Bountiful_ to see that innocent face smiling down at him. Saving him.

He hugged his pain to himself and wished Anthony would leave before he disgraced himself by sobbing aloud, and wished even more that Anthony would crawl into the bed with him and wrap him in warmth and healing and forgiveness and…love.

He heard the door shut and Anthony's footsteps going down the stairs, and then he _did_ let his tears escape, but only for a moment. Then he forced himself to stop, to be still. He didn't want Anthony to know he'd cried and be worried about the reason. He didn't want Anthony's pity. He wanted…

He wanted to go away in his mind, where it was safe, where nothing could hurt him. And if Anthony called to him and said "I need you", he'd know it for the lie it was and not come back.

But he wouldn't—_couldn't_—do that to Johanna. He could endure this. He'd survived so much worse, so many losses, so much pain. This was just one more. And it wasn't as if it were _love_.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Mentor_

If it hadn't been for the razors, he'd never have believed that the pale, quiet man standing in front of him was Benjamin Barker. The eyes were the same, even though they'd lost their cheerful sparkle, but everything else…

Mr. Barker had been a handsome young man with a ready smile and an easy laugh and a good heart. Mr. Barker had taken him in and treated him like a son and become his father and his friend and his mentor and his idol. He'd have gladly laid down his life for the man. He still would.

It had been a shock at first, discovering that Mr. Barker…no, _Meester_ _Todda_…loved another man. It didn't seem natural somehow, not that he'd ever really given any thought to two men being together like _that, _but if Anthony was what Mr. Todd wanted, it was fine with him. God knew he deserved _some_ happiness after all the hardship he'd had.

It had been an even bigger shock to realize that Mr. Todd didn't _know_ that he loved Anthony, didn't figure it out even when he was in the back of the wagon after doing what he'd done for the Judge, shaking and sick and refusing all offers of help by saying, "It'll be all right when I get home to Anthony." Not even the day after Anthony had seen him with the Judge, when Mr. Todd had come in and all but cried because he'd hurt his boy so but Anthony had loved him enough to understand and forgive him.

Something had happened this afternoon, while he and Johanna had been gone to that thrice-damned service. He could see it in Anthony's face, in the way he kept his head turned away from Mr. Todd as they gave their report and Johanna did her impressions of the various officials who'd been there, almost ignoring Mr. Todd, when before he'd hung onto the man's every breath. And he could see it in Mr. Todd's eyes. They were ever so slightly reddened, and they were…empty. Dead.

Mr. Todd had told him how Anthony felt now, how the boy wouldn't even share a bed with him, but they'd seemed to be doing all right, and he'd hoped it would work itself out in time. Or maybe it was just that he _wanted_ them to be doing all right, like he wanted it to be all right between him and his Johanna.

That was how he thought of her now. _His_ Johanna. He'd fallen in love with her the first time he met her, when she'd put her chin up and refused to go away to safety and leave her father behind. Or maybe it was the next day, when she'd shown acting skills and a sense of theatricality easily the equal of his own. They were made for each other, and he thought she knew it too, and as soon as all this was settled and Mr. Todd was well again, he was going to ask permission to court Johanna properly.

Mr. Todd had been worrying at a lock of his hair as they'd talked, pulling it out, letting it go to spring back into an untidy curl, pulling it out again. The minute Johanna and Mrs. Lovett left to go downstairs to get Johanna out of her mourning, he looked up with those winter-ice eyes and said abruptly, "Cut it off."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anthony make a sudden, quickly aborted, movement of protest. He shrugged and shook his head. "Can't. Don't have my scissors."

"You're the best barber in London, aren't you? Use one of my razors."

He decided to say what Anthony so obviously had wanted to. "I like your hair the way it is."

"I don't. Cut it."

He gave Anthony an apologetic look as he went for a razor. The lad looked as if he were about to burst into tears as Mr. Todd struggled out of bed and headed unsteadily for the chair. It didn't escape his notice that Anthony didn't offer to help him.

Christ, what had _happened_?

"Anthony, will you go ask Mrs. L for a tablecloth and a broom?" he said smoothly as he reached for the razor strop.

"Yes sir." Anthony seemed relieved to have an excuse to leave.

He waited until he heard the door downstairs, then asked casually, "Something go wrong between the two of you today?"

Mr. Todd sighed, and suddenly he looked very tired, and far older than his years. "No. Nothing."

"You want me to have a word with him?"

"No!" Mr. Todd's response was quick and vehement. "He's made his decision. Come to his senses. Let it be."

"But you lo…" He caught himself. "He means so much to you."

"Yes, he does, but I don't mean anything to him. Not any more. Thank you, Davy, but…it's all right."

It wasn't, but there seemed nothing more to say.

o-o-o-o-o

It was Johanna who came back with the things he'd asked for. She was still in the black dress, and she was scowling disapprovingly in a way so much like her father that he almost laughed.

"You're not really going to cut Father's hair?" She glared accusation at him.

"He is." Mr. Todd reached for the cloth and began to arrange it about himself. "Down to the skin."

"Not that short!" Johanna exclaimed.

He raised his eyebrows. "You don't want me to go against my wife, now do you, Mr. Todd?"

"Davy…" Again, there was that weariness in Mr. Todd's whole being. "Just cut it. Please?"

With a sigh, he gathered a twist of hair into his hands and lifted the razor.

o-o-o-o-o

The end result wasn't as bad as he'd been afraid it would be. It was shorter, but there was still more than enough hair to fan out and frame Mr. Todd's thin face. Mr. Todd ran a hand through it, shook his head in resignation, then remained still as Johanna helped to dust off the loose hair and sweep up the floor.

"You'd make a proper barber's assistant." He dared to let his hand linger on hers as he took the sheet from her.

"I might _like_ to be a barber's assistant, if it were the right barber," she said softly, not pulling away.

Seemingly unaware of the exchange, Mr. Todd pushed himself to his feet, moved the few steps to the bed, and fell onto it. Johanna hurried to his side.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Father?"

"I just need to rest."

She leaned over to kiss his cheek, then straightened and said, "I'll go change now."

"And I'll go take care of this." He paused at the door. "Want me to send Anthony up?"

"No. I'm fine."

Shaking his head, he closed the door behind him and followed Johanna down the stairs. What else _could_ he do?

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Shipmates_

He was just about to get in the queue at Signor Pirelli's and treat himself to a fancy shave when he saw Anthony Hope across the market. He started toward his friend, hand raised to wave, then stopped. He'd had time to think about the way he'd acted there at the end of that voyage, time to be ashamed of himself. Anthony had been a good friend to him, and all that talk about him and Mr. Todd had most likely been just that. Talk. Because he knew what men did together—Lewis had done it to _him_—and no man as good as Anthony could want _that_.

He was surprised when Anthony turned and saw him and came over to wring his hand in greeting. "Samuel! It's good to see you."

"You too." Close up, he could see that Anthony looked haggard, not like himself. Being on land all these weeks obviously hadn't agreed with him.

"Have you been in port long?"

He nodded toward the docks. "Just got in this mornin'. Made a quick run to India and back. Good trip. Wish you'd been with us."

Anthony released his hand. "I didn't think I could sail with some of those men again after what they said. What they did. Two of them attacked Mr. Todd and me before we even got out of the shipyard."

He hadn't known that, but it didn't surprise him. "But all that's over now, eh? You didn't stay with him?"

Anthony seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "He had some problems."

"He got them all settled now?"

"Mostly."

"So what you gonna do now that he don't need you no more?"

Oddly, Anthony looked as if that had hurt. "I don't know."

"We'll be sailing again in a week. America." He grinned. "We don't have a full crew yet. I bet Captain Evans would be more'n glad to have you sign on. It's gonna be a long trip. Be good to have a friend like you along. It ain't like you got anything here, is it?"

"No." For some reason Anthony's gaze shifted briefly toward the ridiculously-garbed barber, then he said, "Let me think about it."

"Don't take too long."

"I won't. Thank you, Samuel."

They talked for a few moments about the voyage, then Anthony went on his way. It wasn't until he was in the barber's chair that he realized Anthony hadn't really answered any of his questions about Mr. Todd, and wondered why.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Family_

Even in such a short a time, they'd become like 'er family—Mr. T and Anthony and even Davy and th' boy—first family she'd 'ad since poor dear Albert 'ad passed. First family she'd 'ad in longer than that, truth be told, wot with 'er and Albert not havin' children of their own. She might've thought about young Ben Barker and 'is Lucy as family, if she 'adn't been so daft, and so hot to 'ave him. Foolishness, that's wot it'd been. Pure foolishness.

She didn't know wot was goin' on with Anthony an' Mr. T, why they seemed so far apart just when things should've been goin' fine for them, but she didn't like it one bit. It was startin' to worry 'er, both of them mopin' around, and then Mr. T 'avin' Davy chop off so much of that pretty hair of 'is. And 'adn't the lad been upset by _that_, sayin' it was his fault and all but cryin' over it. All this fuss an' nonsense, when anybody with a lick o' sense could see how they felt about each other.

She hoped Johanna wasn't the cause of it, that neither of them wanted the girl to know wot they'd been to each other. She thought Johanna was so happy to be away from that Judge and back with 'er father that Mr. T could've been in love with a monkey and she wouldn't care.

Wot they needed was a good talkin' to, and she'd give it to them if she thought either of them would listen to her. But she knew Mr. T would glower, and Anthony would look at 'er w' those big sad eyes, and it wouldn't do no good in the end.

Maybe if they went on a picnic Sunday, like they done before all the mess with the Judge. Bein' out in the fresh air and sunshine—that'd do the trick. Mr. T would smile, and Anthony would talk to him, and it'd all turn out right. They'd have their happily ever after, and she'd have 'er family again.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Blue_

The morning after the memorial service, she asked Mrs. Lovett to go with her back to the dressmaker's shop, to buy another dress. This time, the one she bought was blue, with a modest neckline and enough ruffles to make her feel feminine without there being so many that they got in the way. In public, wherever any of Turpin's cronies might see her, she'd wear black and play the dutiful ward, grieving for the loss of her beloved guardian, but when she was with her father, she'd wear blue.

Her father truly _was_ grieving. She knew the signs; she'd grieved herself, far too often, grieved for things she'd thought she could never have. She wondered what it was that Father wanted so much.

She was sure he wasn't mourning Turpin or the odious Beadle, or sad because (yes, she was sure, even though Anthony wouldn't answer her questions and she couldn't ask Father) he'd taken their lives. She hoped he didn't have any regrets, for _she_ most certainly did not. She was relieved that she'd never see either of them again, that she wouldn't have to...

She'd known for some time what Turpin had wanted of her—what he'd meant to do to her. She _shouldn't_ have known about such things, of course, should've been as innocent as the Judge had thought she was. But, in truth, she knew far too much about such matters for a woman of her age—for a woman of _any_ age who wasn't a whore. She'd been almost thirteen the first time she'd crept into the Judge's library while he was at court, hoping to find a book which would explain the strange things happening to her body. Instead, she'd found a book with drawings so shockingly explicit that she'd slammed the book shut and run back to her room, crimson with embarrassment.

The housekeeper had explained her blooming womanhood and given her the necessary instruction, and, eventually, curiosity had won out and she'd gone back to the library. And she hadn't run away—she'd looked at the drawings and read the descriptions of what was being done. She'd still been shocked, because some of the things the men and women were doing to each other...especially the things the _men_ were doing to each other...seemed wrong somehow. Not...natural. But then she'd realized that in almost every drawing, the people looked _happy_—happier than _she'd_ ever been—so what they were doing _must_ be all right.

Yes, the thought of the Judge doing those things to her had made her sick. But the thought of _Davy_...

She'd known the man for less than a fortnight, far too little time for her to have fallen in love with him, even if they _were_ pretending to be man and wife, but she couldn't help herself. He was exactly the sort of prince—handsome, kind, clever, talented—she'd always dreamed would come to save her from her wicked guardian.

She just wished that while he'd been cutting away at Father's hair, he'd taken care of his own too.

o-o-o-o-o

Father was on the sofa in Mrs. Lovett's parlor, feet up, looking stronger but still unwell, when she came in with the pie and held it out to him.

"What's that?"

"Anthony's been teaching me to bake. I made this all by myself, just for you."

He took it and sniffed and raised an eyebrow, then took a small bite. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and took a larger bite. She waited expectantly.

He nodded approval. "This is the best meat pie I've ever eaten."

She heard a noise from the hall behind her and turned her head. "Anthony! Father said..." The look on his face sent her voice trailing away. It was totally impossible, of course, but for a moment there, before his normal smile came back, he had looked terribly...jealous.

"I heard," he said blandly, coming into the room. "Mrs. L thought Mr. Todd might like some ale to wash it down." Oddly, he handed the mug to her instead of her father, then turned and all but bolted from the room.

"I wonder why..." For the second time her voice failed, this time at the look on her _father's_ face. He was staring after Anthony with such...such longing that it was almost painful to see.

And then she understood what it was that Father wanted.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Ironic II_

"Father?"

His thoughts had wandered away from the novel Johanna was reading to him. She'd insisted that he rest as much as possible today so he'd be strong enough for tomorrow's picnic, and, as always, he'd given in to her, settling down in bed to listen to her read.

"I'm sorry, Johanna."

"It's all right." She closed the book, using her fingertip to mark the place. "I was wondering... Can I ask you something."

Everything inside him clenched at that, but he nodded and tried to look pleasant and motioned for her to continue.

"You like Anthony, don't you?"

"Course I do," he mumbled.

"I do too." She ducked her head and smiled shyly. "He's so very nice. So good to me. So handsome. I suppose you'd be pleased if I fell in love with him and wanted to marry—"

"No!"

The force of the word startled him as much as her. The surge of...no, not jealousy, because he'd only be jealous if he loved Anthony, and he didn't...sickened him with its intensity, but... Johanna and _Anthony_?

Johanna was staring at him as if she couldn't decide whether to laugh or be upset with him. He'd noticed that more than once in the past two weeks—sometimes she'd get one of those looks that told him she was thinking very deeply about something, but he could never tell what. She'd gotten her beauty and her coloring and her sweetness from her mother, but Lucy had _never_ looked at him like that. He wondered where those indecipherable expressions had come from.

"It's..." He tried to find a rational explanation for his outburst, and failed. "You're too young to marry," he said at last.

And he knew what _that_ look meant—that she didn't agree with him at all. But she only said, "Shall I continue reading?"

"Yes."

He leaned back as she opened the book and picked up where she'd stopped, but once more he wasn't listening. Because for Johanna to fall in love with _Anthony_..._that_ would be the greatest irony of all.


	28. Chapter 24

He was dreaming again

...

Once again, apologies for taking so long with this. Thank you as always to Miss Becky, for beta and encouragement, and thank you to everybody who's reading, especially you folks who've sent me such delightful reviews. These folks aren't mine legally, whatever I might think, so no copy right infringement intended. Same disclaimers as the rest of the story. Enjoy!

_Twenty-four _

He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the door was open and their voices carried out to the stairs as he climbed them.

"You can't go on like this."

"And what am I supposed to do, Davy?" Todd's voice had that raw, desperate edge that frightened Anthony. "I can't tell him to—" He broke off abruptly as Anthony reached the landing.

They were both staring at him when he walked in. He looked from one to the other and breathed, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I just came for..." He edged across the room and scooped up one of the blankets from his bed. "Mrs. L sent me for... I'm sorry..."

He almost fell down the steps in his haste to get away.

ooooo

"_What you gonna do now that he don't need you no more?"_

He'd thought about that—and about Samuel's suggestion that he go back to sea—as he'd finished his errands that day, and as he'd walked back to the shop, and almost every waking moment since. Samuel had no idea how right he'd been with his casual question. Todd _didn't_ need him anymore. And that hurt, because _he_ still needed _Todd_.

The night before, he'd curled on his pallet, pretending to sleep, and stared at the dark mound of shadows on the bed and wondered how and when and _why_ Todd had become so important to him that he couldn't imagine a life without Todd in it. He knew that was a silly, romantic notion, because of _course_ he could live without Todd, just…not as happily, perhaps. Because even though Todd was difficult and troubled and confusing and damaged, he made Anthony happy as no one else ever had.

Just being Todd's friend—even without the tension between them that his foolish action on Sunday had caused—wasn't enough, not after almost believing he could be so much more. Maybe it _was_ time to move on. Signing on with the _Bountiful,_ leaving London… It would be a chance to make a new life. And maybe, in time, he'd even find someone else to love.

ooooo

Anthony busied himself folding the blanket and putting it with the other picnic things, checking and double-checking and triple-checking to make sure the basket had enough food and drink, smiling at Mrs. Lovett and Toby as they chattered on about how perfect the day was and what a good time they were going to have.

"Did y' ask Mr. T an' Davy if they're almost ready?"

He shook his head. She frowned at him.

"Y' not gonna be at odds w' Mr. T _today_, are y'?"

"I'm not at odds with him." He didn't sound convincing, even to himself.

Mrs. Lovett made a clucking sound of disapproval and elbowed Toby. "Go fetch y' master an' Mr. T." The minute he'd scooted out the door, she turned on Anthony. "You an' Mr. T need t'—"

"I'm ready, Mrs. L." Johanna hurried in from the back, pink-cheeked and beaming with eagerness. "How do I look?"

Grateful for the interruption, Anthony gave her a smile and said, "You look wonderful."

"Thank you, sir." She went to check the basket. "And doesn't _this_ look wonderful. You've outdone yourself, Anthony."

"I hope there's enough food."

"As long as we get our share before we let Toby at it." She giggled.

"I heard that!" Toby poked his head in and grinned. "They're ready. Let's go!"

Anthony gathered up the basket. Mrs. Lovett and Johanna each took one of the blankets, although Connor said, "Let me," and took them both the minute they exited the shop. Todd stood behind him, hand on the railing, staring at the ground. Johanna went straight to him, frowning worriedly.

"Are you _sure_ you feel up to this, Father?"

Anthony thought it was a measure of how well _their_ relationship had progressed that she had no qualms about questioning his health.

"I'm all right." Todd was obviously trying not to speak sharply to her, and mostly succeeding. "The fresh air'll do me good."

"If you're sure…"

He gave her one of his looks and set out on his own.

ooooo

Both he and Todd were quiet on the walk, Todd leading, Anthony following behind, the others laughing and talking and enjoying the outing. By the time they reached the little park, it was obvious to Anthony that the walk _had_ tired Todd. As soon as the blankets were spread on the ground beneath a tree, he dropped onto one, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

Anthony watched him anxiously, pretending he wasn't, hoping no one would notice. He helped Mrs. Lovett unpack the basket and hand the food around. Todd roused for that, nibbling at the meat and cheese Johanna handed him, smiling at the stories Connor told about his customers, offering advice to Toby when the boy set out with his kite.

Anthony found he had little to say. He sat with his legs crossed in front of him, looking around at the people who'd been strangers just three months before, but had become his family, wondering if they'd miss him as much as he'd miss them. He'd wondered if Todd would miss him, or simply be relieved that the one person who knew so many of his secrets was gone.

Toby came running back after crashing the kite and flung himself down with an eager, "We gonna eat again?" And so they did.

Afterwards, Todd shifted to stretch out on the blanket. With a quick, "Here, Father," Johanna moved so that he could rest his head in her lap. She smiled down at him and began to play with the streak of white in his hair.

"I wonder if my hair will turn like that when I'm old."

"I'm not _that_ old," he muttered.

She giggled and tugged at the strand, and once again Anthony felt sick with jealousy and ashamed of himself for feeling that way all at the same time.

"Your hair's not like mine, anyway. You have your mother's hair."

"Mrs. Barker was a beautiful lady," Connor said softly. "Almost as pretty as her daughter."

Johanna blushed and murmured, "Thank you, sir."

"Stupid love talk." Toby jumped up. "I'm goin' down by the creek."

"Be careful," Connor and Mrs. Lovett said in unison. He made a face and ran.

"He's a good lad."

"That he is, Mrs. L. I was lucky to find him."

With Toby gone, it was peaceful for a while. Finally, as the sun began to sink lower, Anthony cleared his throat and said, "I saw Samuel Cooper at the market a couple of days ago."

"'e a friend o' yours?"

"Yes. He was one of my shipmates on the _Bountiful_."

"Ah, tha's nice, love."

"They're in port now, but he said they'll be sailing for America within the week."

"How exciting," Johanna breathed. "I'd love to see America someday."

"Yes. It would be…exciting." He hesitated. "He told me there are berths available, if I was interested."

Mrs. Lovett frowned. "'ere now, lad, wot y' thinkin'?"

He took a deep breath. "You have Johanna to help you with the shop now. I'm not really needed here anymore. Maybe it's time for me to go back to sea."

Johanna made a sound of dismay. "Oh Anthony, you can't be serious. Leave us?"

"It wouldn't be forever. I'd come back to visit, whenever we were in port."

"But you'd be gone for so long. Father, tell him he can't go."

Todd sat up abruptly, his face frozen in the stony mask that Anthony knew too well. "The boy has to do what he thinks is best." His voice was low, tight. "I daresay he's had more than enough of…" The dark head dipped slightly, and Todd's hands clenched. "If he thinks it's time to move on and live his own life, then it's time."

"But I thought you..." Johanna's voice trailed away at the look her father gave her.

Todd pushed himself to his feet and reached for his jacket. "It's late. We need to start back." Without another word, he walked away from them, to the bottom of the little hill, and stood there looking toward the street.

"Father?"

Connor stood and moved toward the creek. "Toby! Time to go!"

"Father?" Johanna called again. Todd folded his arms across his chest and ignored her.

Mrs. Lovett shook her head. "Pay 'im no mind, love. 'e 'as th' odd turn ever' now an' then. Comes from bein' out in that Australian sun too long." She began to shove their things back into the basket. "'ere, lad, give us a 'and w' this blanket."

As if colored by Todd's mood, the trip back was as silent and dark as the trip out had been bright and joyful. Todd stalked ahead of them, hands in his pockets now, setting a pace that Anthony suspected was much too fast for his still fragile health. By the time they reached the pie shop, his steps were unsteady, and his breathing seemed difficult.

"Y' get right up them stairs an' straight t' bed, y' 'ear me," Mrs. Lovett scolded. "Anthony, you go w' 'im an' see that 'e does. Th' rest o' you, come 'elp me out w' this."

Reluctantly, Anthony followed Todd up the stairs, stopping just inside the door to light one of the lanterns. Todd was struggling with his jacket, and Anthony went to his side. "Let me help you, sir."

"I can do it," he snapped. "I don't need your help."

"Yes sir." He shrank away, watching as Todd hung up the jacket, dropped onto the bed, and painfully bent to untie his boots and remove them.

When he was finished, he sat there for a long moment, head bent, hands clasped between his knees. Then he abruptly pulled his legs up and, not bothering with the covers, turned onto his side and closed his eyes.

"Anthony?" Johanna was standing in the doorway, beckoning to him. "I'll sit with him."

He nodded his thanks and left them.

ooooo

When he returned almost an hour later, Johanna was sitting in the chair, thumbing through a book. He glanced at the figure on the bed, and she said quietly, "He's asleep."

"Good. He seemed…tired."

"Yes." She lifted the book and turned it so that he could read the title. "He doesn't seem to be enjoying this one very much."

"We can go tomorrow to pick out another one, if you'd like."

"Yes." She hesitated, then said suddenly, "Anthony, I want to ask you something."

"Of course." He dropped to the floor beside the chair and looked up at her, waiting.

"Do you love my father?"

He told himself she didn't mean it the way it sounded and tried very hard not to blush. "Of course I do. He's my friend."

"No, not like that," she said impatiently. "Are you _in_ love with my father?"

She _had_ meant it like that and he _did_ blush. "What makes you think…" Something in her expression stopped him. "Yes, Johanna. I am."

She tilted her head inquiringly. "Are you _ashamed_ of being in love with Father?"

"No, but it's not…usual for one man to love another. Not like _that_. I didn't want you to think…"

"What?"

"That Mr. Todd is…that there's…" He didn't know how to express himself, but, luckily, she seemed to understand.

"Does he know?"

"Yes."

"And is he in love with you?"

"He cares about me."

"But is he in _love_ with you?" .

"Johanna…" Again he fumbled for the words. "Mr. Todd has had a very…harsh life. I think…he's said...he's told me… He finds it...difficult to love."

"He loves _me_."

"That's different."

"How? If he's able to love me, why couldn't he love you too?"

It was a question Anthony had asked himself many times in the past two weeks. He gave her the only answer he had.

"It's a different sort of love, Johanna. You're his flesh and blood, and I'm just his friend."

"Have you ever kissed him?"

Anthony couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Johanna..."

"Oh stop being so embarrassed. I know what people do—more than the kissing, too." A look of mischief crossed her face. "My honorable guardian had a most extensive collection of _those_ sorts of books, and he wasn't always at home."

"You…you read them?"

She giggled. "And looked at the drawings, so don't think you can shock me."

"Oh." It was all he could manage.

"I know that men can do things with each other, just like men and women. So do you? You and Father?"

At least he was able to answer honestly when he said, "No," because they didn't—not now.

The smile left her face. "I hoped..." She sighed. "I thought if you had… Well, _that_ would've told you that he loves you, because he wouldn't have done any of those things...let you do those things…unless he did."

"Johanna…" He stopped. It wasn't his place to educate her any further in the ways of the world, and he prayed to God that she would never learn how wrong her assumption was—that her father _had_ done those very things with someone he hated in order to free her. "You're right, but we…we don't."

She seemed oddly disappointed. They sat in silence for a moment, then she asked, "How did you _know_ you were in love with him?"

Anthony closed his eyes and, for a moment, he could almost feel the deck moving beneath his feet and smell the salt in the air and remember the first moment he had realized he wanted to hold Todd, even though he hadn't understood why.

"We spent a lot of time together on the ship…"

"Father told me how you saved his life, and then how much you helped him afterwards."

He nodded. "And one day I looked at him and I just…knew."

"That's how I feel about Davy." She was smiling—happy—again. "Ever since that first day, when we went to the house and he pretended to be my husband. He was..." She paused, thinking. "He was like the sun, so bright, and so clever, and so funny. And he was so gentle and protective of me, just like I really _was_ his wife. And I thought...what a wonderful man he is."

He didn't need to ask if Connor returned her feelings. "He's a _very_ good man."

"I just wish you and Father..." She shook her head. "Is that wrong? To wish that you and he could be together."

"I don't think it's wrong, Johanna. It's just impossible."

"I'm sorry."

"I am too."

She put the book on the floor and stood. Anthony jumped to his feet and escorted her to the door, but she paused with her hand on the latch.

"Anthony, if you love him, why are you leaving him?"

"Because sometimes no matter how much you _want_ something, you finally have to realize you can't have it. And then the only thing you can do is accept it and move on."

"Do you _really_ want to go?"

"I think it's for the best." He smiled at her and kissed her forehead, then stood and watched until she reached the shop below. When she was gone, he closed the door and turned.

And found Todd's dark eyes open and staring at him with an unnerving intensity.

"Mr. Todd. I thought you were asleep," he said weakly.

Todd pushed up onto one elbow, his expression unreadable. "You didn't answer her question."

"Which one, sir?"

"Do you really want to go?"

"I…it's for the best," he stammered.

"So you said. Best for you?"

"No. I mean..."

Todd sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and resting his elbows on his knees. "Do you think it's best for _me_?"

"Isn't it?" he asked helplessly.

Todd ignored that. "You told Johanna you loved me. That you _still_ love me?" He made it a question. Anthony saw no reason to lie.

"Yes sir. I do."

Todd's eyes narrowed; his gaze sharpened. "Then why did you say no when I asked you to share the bed with me two weeks ago?" When Anthony hesitated, he snapped, "Don't lie to me, boy."

His answer came out in a rush of pain, the words almost tumbling over each other. "Because I didn't think you wanted me to. I'd been sitting with you all that day while you were asleep, and all I could do was look at you and _think_—think about how you wouldn't ever want Johanna to know what we'd done, and think that you wouldn't want me...that you wouldn't want _anyone _to touch you, not after whatever had happened with _them_. I couldn't see how you'd really _want_ me to be in your bed."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you." When Anthony only stared at him, he went on, "It wasn't because of them?"

"No sir."

"Because I let them use me and then killed them?"

"I only wish you could've killed them _before_, so they wouldn't have hurt you," he blurted out. "I wish _I_ could've killed them."

"Sweet Jesus." Todd shook his head, a look of something like amazement on his face, and said simply, "Don't go."

"Sir?"

"Don't leave. Don't go back to sea. Stay with me. Please."

Anthony felt as if the world had spun around him. He leaned back against the door for support and, hardly daring to hope, whispered, "Have I been a fool again, sir?"

"No more than me."

"You mean..." He was afraid to go on.

"Lock the door and come here."

He shoved the bolt home, crossed the room on unsteady legs, and stopped near the bed, suddenly unsure. "Sir..."

Todd lifted a hand to silence him and looked up, eyes dark with emotion. "I promised myself that when the business with Turpin was over, if you still cared at all about me, I'd try to be whatever you wanted…do whatever you wanted. Just…tell me."

"Oh." The bubble of joy that had been rising in Anthony exploded. "So all this is...it's just more…compensation."

"No." Todd spoke quietly, but there was undeniable truth in the intensity of his words. "It's what _I _want. I want to..." He lifted his hands helplessly. "I want to be with you. It's...when I thought you were...you had... I thought..." He paused, as if trying to gather thoughts that he didn't fully understand. "It's more than you being my friend. You make me feel _whole_ again, Anthony. You make me think I might be _happy_ again. I don't understand _why_ you want me, and God knows it won't be easy for you, but whatever you want—whatever I'm able to give you—is yours. _I'm_ yours."

Anthony took the last step to the side of the bed. When Todd looked up, he smiled and whispered, "I love you too." Then he slid his hands through Todd's hair and cupped the back of his head, and when Todd sighed and closed his eyes, Anthony leaned down and kissed him.

ooooo

He'd meant it to be only a simple kiss, but Todd's lips moved, opening, asking for more, and he found it hard to refuse. After a moment, he pulled away and straightened, but Todd's hand shot out to catch his.

"What do you want me to do for you?"

The offer was a low rumble that sent sparks of arousal through him. He had to take several deep breaths before he could shake his head and say, "Nothing, sir."

"Nothing?"

He wouldn't have believed Todd's tone could have gone _more_ seductive, and with a single word. He fought the urge to pull his hand free and put it in front of himself to try to hide his response, knowing it was already too late.

"Of course I want to…to...just…not now. Later...later we can…we will…" Todd's fingertips were moving against his palm, stroking in a way that made it difficult to think. "It's just…knowing everything's all right between us…that we'll be together...that we're...right now _that's_ more important than…than _this_."

"It is?" The tip of Todd's tongue flicked out, across his lower lip.

"Yes. I don't want you to...I mean...I _do_, but... Please, sir...I don't want you to think that the only thing I want from you is sex."

"You're blushing."

"It's just that..."

"I _know_, Anthony." Todd's grasp tightened. "And I understand what you're saying. But right now _I_ want to. I _need_ to. Please?"

And then Anthony understood what _Todd_ was saying. And even though—his traitorous body aside—he truly _was_ more interested in seeing the misery of the past two weeks erased, he nodded and said simply, "Then do whatever _you_ want to, sir."

Todd immediately began to work at the buttons of Anthony's trousers. "I don't have oil," he muttered regretfully, "so I can't let you..."

"We have the rest of our lives."

Todd glanced up quickly, as if startled by the words. "We do, don't we."

"Yes."

His skillful fingers worked Anthony free. "And for now, I can do this..."

At the first touch, Anthony's legs gave way. Todd guided him down onto the bed, on his back, and began to kiss him again, kissed him with love and need, kissed him deeply and urgently, kissed him until they were both gasping.

And then Todd broke the kiss and slid down to use his mouth in another way.

ooooo

After, Todd settled onto the bed beside Anthony and pulled him into an embrace so tight that he could scarcely breathe. Anthony curled against him, clinging to him, thinking he might never let go.

"Thank you, Anthony," Todd murmured. There was something…_satisfied_ in his voice, as if, at that moment, he was as satisfied as Anthony. "I knew you'd make me feel clean again."

"You _always_ were as far as I was concerned, sir." He had to say it, had to be sure Todd knew, had to erase any lingering doubts Todd might have.

"I know. Now." Todd moved one hand up to ruffle his hair, and he shivered. "Cold?"

"No sir, just…it felt good."

Todd sighed. "I feel…I'm tired. From this afternoon, not that."

"All that walking was too much, too soon."

"That and…when you said you were leaving… It hurt. I felt so…alone."

"I'm not leaving you." Anthony somehow managed to snuggle closer. "I'll never leave you. You'll never be alone again. Rest now. I'll be here when you wake up."

"I'll sleep for a bit. Then I'll…I'll…" His voice trailed away and his breathing went soft and regular.

Anthony lay there trying to absorb it all. The aftermath of the kind of pleasure he'd secretly suspected only Todd would ever be able to give him. The rise and fall of Todd's chest. The sound of Todd's heartbeat against his ear. The feel of the arms holding him so possessively, even in sleep. The solid, reassuring warmth of Todd's body against his.

He relaxed, and, after a time, his own mind drifted away.

ooooo

"I'm glad she asked you all those questions."

Anthony blinked back to awareness. It took a moment for the words to register, another for him to remember where he was and what had happened, and another for him to realize what Todd had said. "Johanna?"

"If she hadn't…" Todd's voice went rough.

"But she did."

"Yes. I just wish…"

"What, sir?" When Todd didn't answer, Anthony raised himself slightly, so he could look at Todd. "What is it?"

"I wish she hadn't read his filthy books." There was a flash of dark anger in the last words. "They weren't fit for a decent man, much less an innocent girl."

"I'm sure they weren't, but they don't seem to have hurt her."

"Made her know too much."

"I'm _glad_ she knew too much, since this…" He dipped his head to bump his chin against Todd. "Is the result. Besides, don't you think that'll make things easier for her, when she and Davy are married for real?"

"I suppose it will at that." Todd's eyes went unfocused for a moment. "When Lucy and I were married… She was as innocent as…as _you_ were. Not that I had that much experience myself, then. I was so afraid I was going to hurt her or…"

Anthony had a flash of memory of the beggar who may or may not have been Lucy, and bit his lip with regret. Todd saw the gesture and, obviously misunderstanding, said gruffly, "I shouldn't be talking about Lucy. Not now."

"Oh no, sir." He sat up the rest of the way. "Don't ever think you should just…forget about her, or not talk about her, just because I…because we're…" He caught Todd's hand between his own. "I know she was a good woman, and I know you had a happy life with her. I can never take her place. I don't want to. What we have is different. And…I never knew her…" And please, God, he prayed silently, let that be true. "But I love her, because _you_ loved her. Because _she_ loved you."

Todd gripped his hand. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been there for me when I came home."

He leaned forward to kiss Todd again, thinking he would never be able to get enough of that, then glanced toward the doorway, where the lamp was burning low. "Shall I go put it out so you can sleep again?"

"No. Not yet." Once again, Todd seemed to be trying to decide how to say something. Anthony thought they both had spent far too much time tonight—perhaps in the entire time they'd known each other—being so careful about choosing their words.

"What is it, Mr. Todd?"

"Last week…in the bakehouse. The reason I pushed you away…it wasn't because I didn't want you to…to…"

"Touch you."

"I thought you didn't want me, not anymore, and I didn't want you to know that…" He shrugged. "That I was wanting you."

Anthony's eyes went wide. "Sir!"

"It was the way you were touching me…so gentle…so…I forgot that you were disgusted by me…I thought you were disgusted…and I wanted…"

Anthony was feeling an excitement that almost took his breath away, hope and joy and love and a wanting of his own. "You mean..."

"Yes."

"Then will you let me…"

"If you'd like."

"Oh yes, sir. I'd very much like."

Taking the hand that had slipped down to his thigh, he lifted it and, with slow, deliberate movements, began to undo the buttons of the cuff, stroking up the inside of Todd's wrist as he went. Finished, he released the hand and reached for the other, repeating the process until both sleeves hung loose around Todd's arms, then moved to the front of Todd's shirt, opening the buttons one by one, letting his fingers sneak inside to brush against the skin.

"Anthony?"

"Yes sir?" He rose up onto his knees, pushing the fabric away, bending to press his lips against the scarred, beautiful flesh, moving his head slowly from side to side, nuzzling, licking, tasting, teasing, until he felt Todd's chest heave against his mouth.

Rolling, he went to his feet, pulling Todd up with him, hands skimming over the thin shoulders to strip away the shirt, then sliding around to draw Todd into an embrace. "I love you." He kissed Todd, kissed him again, kissed him until he wondered if Todd were as dizzy and breathless as he was, then reached between them to free the buttons fastening Todd's trousers.

Anthony bit back a cry of delight as the trousers dropped away and Todd sprang free and erect into his hand. He wrapped his fingers around the rigid flesh and began to explore...but then Todd leaned back slightly with a soft, almost-protest. There was something in his face—something deep and dark and uneasy.

And Anthony remembered. And he knew what Todd was thinking.

He instantly released Todd, trying to keep his own fear from showing, forcing a smile. "Don't… I love you. I wouldn't..."

"I know." Todd's dropped back onto the bed. "I _know_, but…"

And in that instant Anthony knew what to do. He needed to touch Todd in a way that _they_ never had, so Todd wouldn't be afraid. He smiled and dropped to one knee and leaned forward, then whispered, "May I? Please?"

"Anthony..."

Oh God, please let me do this right, he prayed silently and desperately as he licked his lips and reached for Todd.

He placed his hands on the bed, on either side of Todd's hips, and used only his mouth to touch him, gliding the tip of his tongue up and down, then again, then again, waiting until Todd's breathing became quick and uneven before he dared to go farther. He wanted to be bold—as bold as Todd was when _he_ did this—but he found himself proceeding slowly, tentatively, carefully, his gaze never leaving Todd's face, ready to retreat at the first sign of distress.

"Anthony…"

There was a pleading note in the word. Anthony moved, taking Todd deeper, letting his tongue work more urgently, trying to mimic the things Todd had done for him and cursing the inexperience that made him feel awkward and clumsy. And then Todd groaned and his head flew back and his hips arched upward, and he came.

It had been too quick—over before he'd really begun to understand what to do. Disappointed, he released Todd and stood, ready to apologize. But when he saw how Todd was sprawled across the bed, motionless, and smiling, he knew it might have been quick, but it had been _right_.

He pulled Todd's trousers the rest of the way off, then stripped away his own clothing so carelessly he heard buttons pop. He scooped Todd's legs onto the bed, turning him, and sank down beside him again. They lay there, holding, being held, until at last he felt it was safe to ask, "Are you all right, Mr. Todd?"

"After..." Todd's voice failed. He shook his head, his hair tickling Anthony's nose, cleared his throat, then tried again. "After what you just did, don't you think it's time you started calling me by my first name?"

He rubbed a hand up and down Todd's back, amused that _this_ was what Todd was thinking about now. "Sweeney?"

"No." Todd's voice was a caress. "Ben."

30


	29. Chapter 29

..

..

_Finally_!

Quick disclaimers: I'm not making any money from this and I don't mean any copyright infringement or anything, but, after all this time, they _do_ belong to me—at least _these_ two do. A big thank you up front to Miss Becky for the quick turnaround on the beta so I could make my self-imposed deadline. Warnings? If you've read this far, you know what to expect. Apologies and other comments at the end of this part.

..

..

_Part Twenty-five_

Anthony didn't realize he was humming as he kneaded the dough until he heard Johanna giggle from somewhere behind him. She sailed into the room, leaned on the counter, and looked up and grinned at him.

"And what's put _you_ in such a good mood this morning, Mr. Hope?"

He blushed.

..

_As always, the first rays of sunlight woke him, but this waking was different from those of the past two weeks, different from any in his life. For a moment, he lay very still, letting the happiness flow through him, thrilling to the knowledge that Todd was __**his**__ now, as __**he**__ had been Todd's since the day they'd met. He sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the gift he'd been given, then he opened his eyes and pushed up slightly on one elbow so he could lean forward and touch his lips to the terrible scar on Todd's shoulder._

"_I love you, Ben," he whispered._

_Todd's head turned, and a smile crept across his face—a smile that Anthony knew had once belonged to Benjamin Barker—but then Todd's eyes snapped open and it was gone._

"_I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to wake you."_

_Todd's hand slid up to the spot Anthony had just kissed. He dragged his nails roughly across it and scowled. "It's ugly. I wish I could tear it out of my skin." His voice was low and dark._

"_No sir. __**He**__ was ugly. What he did to you was ugly. But not you. Nothing about you. You're beautiful."_

_Todd grunted non-committally, but his expression gentled. "Wish I were."_

"_I __**always**__ thought you were." He began to move his hand up and down Todd's chest, stroking. "From that very first day on the ship. Even before I knew __**why**__. Even before I knew I loved you."_

_Todd made a quiet sound and rolled onto his back so he could look at Anthony, his eyes widening, as if in surprise._

"_Is something wrong, sir?"_

"_I think...something __**right**__."_

_Anthony understood, and his own eyes widened. "Then...shall I..."_

"_Just...touch me."_

"_Yes sir." _

_He covered Todd's mouth with his own, letting his lips soften and open and taste, until Todd's eyes slid shut with pleasure and he surged upwards, pushing Anthony onto his back and taking control of the kiss. Anthony went willingly, moaning at the sensation as Todd's arousal brushed against his._

_Despite what Todd had asked, Anthony was afraid to touch him, afraid of what a touch might do. It was Todd's hand that slid between them, fingers walking downward until somehow they closed around both their erections, pressing them together. He gasped as Todd's hand began to move, slowly teasing, pulling them tight and then releasing, touch both soft and yet as hard as they were._

"_Help me, Anthony," he whispered._

_Anthony put his hand over Todd's and they worked together, fingers tangling, then separating, until Anthony was no longer sure whether he was touching Todd or touching himself. He couldn't think—he could only feel, fingers and flesh moving until he groaned with release. He wasn't so far gone in his own pleasure that he didn't realize Todd was jerking helplessly against him with his own orgasm._

_And then Todd sank down beside him, trembling, and he came back to his senses. "Sir? Are you..." When there was no answer, Anthony brought his arms up to circle Todd and hold him until he was still again, until he nodded his thanks and pulled away._

"_It's been a long time since I woke up...like that." Todd settled back, and then the furrow between his eyes suddenly appeared. "Made a mess of the bed," he grumbled._

_Anthony couldn't stop himself. He laughed with the sheer joy of that statement and all it meant, and, after a moment, Todd laughed too._

_He'd wanted to stay there, spend the day in bed with Todd, touching him and loving him and trying to elicit another laugh, but Todd shook his head and dismissed him with a quick, "Time enough for that tonight." And so he'd forced himself to get up, clean himself, dress, and go down to start the day's work._

..

"Anthony?"

He was snapped back to the present, uncomfortably aware of the result of remembering, and glad his apron and the table hid it. "I...I'm just... It's a...a nice day."

Mrs. Lovett was in the room now, patting him on the shoulder and giving him a wink as she passed by. "_I'm_ bettin' it's 'cause y' didn't sleep on th' floor last night."

He hesitated, then muttered, "No mum. I didn't."

"Guess y' won't be goin' back t' sea now, eh?"

"No mum."

Johanna caught his arm. "Really?"

Anthony nodded. "If it's all right with Mrs. L, I'd like to keep working here and living upstairs with..."

The bell jangled as the door opened, and Todd came in. He froze on the threshold, shifting uneasily, and Anthony realized that all three of them had turned to stare at him. He looked from one to the other and said, "What?" in an irritable tone.

Anthony cleared his throat. "Good morning, sir. Can I get you some tea?"

Todd raised an eyebrow and shut the door behind him, then moved to perch on the edge of the table. "What?" he repeated.

"Anthony's staying here with you!" Johanna all but spun around the shop, ending in front of him and leaning over to kiss his cheek. "It worked!" When Todd only stared uncomprehendingly at her, she put a hand to her mouth and breathed, "It _did_ work, didn't it? That _is_ why Anthony's staying?"

"Worked?"

She looked anxious now. "I mean...you _did_ sort everything out, didn't you? And you're _together_ now, and not at odds with each other anymore."

Todd hesitated, glancing quickly toward Anthony, then back, then muttered, "We are."

"I'm so glad!"

"I am too." The words were almost inaudible.

"As am I," Anthony added. "Glad you thought Mr. Todd was asleep when you—"

"I knew he wasn't."

"What?" The word burst from both of them.

Johanna giggled. "I knew Father was just pretending so he wouldn't have to talk to me. That's why I asked you all those things. I knew if you thought he was asleep, you'd be honest, and he'd hear for himself." She turned her attention back to Todd. "Somebody had to do _something_ before you let Anthony leave. I knew how much you love him, and I knew how it would hurt you if you lost him."

"You...knew?"

"Oh, Father, I _do_ have eyes and a brain. How could I _not_ know? Why do you think I asked you if you wanted me to fall in love with Anthony? Oh, if you could've seen the look on your face..." She giggled again.

"Johanna..." He put his arms around her, pulled her into a tight hug, and kissed the top of her head.

"I want you to be happy, Father."

"I think..." He released Johanna and turned to sit. "I think I'd like that tea now, if you please, Anthony."

"Yes sir." He hurried to the kettle, glad of something to do.

"An' maybe a little somethin' t' eat?" Mrs. Lovett added. "Put some meat on those bones f' y' boy."

Anthony was glad his back was turned to them so they wouldn't see how deeply he was blushing at her words, or at Johanna's delighted laughter.

o~o~o~o~o~o

Todd waited until Mrs. Lovett and Johanna had gone to take the pies down to the oven, then motioned for Anthony to come over to where he sat.

"Sir?"

He looked uneasy. "Johanna...what she did... I don't want you to think you're...trapped. That you _have_ to stay here or..."

Anthony put a hand on his shoulder. "I love her for what she did, more than I can say."

Todd gave a sigh of relief. His hand covered Anthony's and tightened briefly. "When you go to the market today, I need you to pick up something for me."

"Of course, sir." He waited expectantly.

"For _both_ of us," he said meaningfully. "For tonight."

"Oh." Anthony felt the color rush to his face again. "Yes sir, I'll...yes sir."

It was worth the embarrassment to hear Todd's soft chuckle.

o~o~o~o~o~o

"Anthony? Somebody t' see ya."

Mrs. Lovett jerked her head toward the door. Todd stood there, looking around the room. Anthony immediately set down the dishes he was carrying and hurried to Todd's side.

"Mr. Todd, sir?"

"I'm going out for a walk. I thought I should let you know, so you won't come up and find me gone and panic."

He wanted to protest, but he knew he'd have done that very thing. "Yes sir. Will you be all right, by yourself?"

Anthony could see the flash of a sharp reply in Todd's eyes, but he only nodded. "I won't be long."

"'ere now." Mrs. Lovett appeared beside them. "Don't y' want Anthony t' go with y'?"

"He's busy."

She snorted. "Crowd's dyin' down f' th' night, an' I got Johanna t' help. He's done enough f' one day." She nodded to Anthony. "You take th' rest o' th' night off an' go w' Mr. T."

Anthony looked questioningly at Todd, pleased when he nodded and said, "All right."

"Go on then."

He undid his apron and handed it to Mrs. Lovett, then followed Todd out into the street. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Todd shook his head once. "I didn't mean to take you away from your work, but I'm always glad of your company."

"Where would you like to go, sir?"

"Doesn't matter. One direction's as good as another."

"That way, then. It's quieter."

They set out, walking in silence for a long time, until Todd suddenly stopped and looked around. "I know where we are. I'd almost forgotten... This way."

They passed through a narrow gate, into a small island of green. Todd dropped onto a bench a little ways in and leaned back, almost instantly lost in darkness, and Anthony settled beside him. They sat there, enjoying a silence which was broken only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional rattle of a carriage on a nearby street.

"We used to come here," Todd said, so softly that Anthony had to lean close to catch the words.

"You and Lucy?"

"I've been thinking about her today. Wondering if I'm abandoning her again."

"You never abandoned her, Ben. It wasn't your choice."

Todd's head turned at the sound of his name. "I know. But still..."

"Don't you think she'd want you to try to be happy again?"

"She wanted _everybody_ to be happy. And..." Anthony heard his breathing go thick. "She's gone. Nothing I can do will bring her back. I've done the only thing I can for her, saving our baby from that monster. And I don't..."

"Sir?"

"I don't want to die with her anymore."

He leaned toward Anthony. Anthony put an arm around his shoulders, and they sat there for a long time, each lost in his own thoughts, before Todd pushed himself up with a quiet, "Let's go home."

o~o~o~o~o~o

Anthony saw Connor watching for them from the window almost the minute the pie shop came into view. The man couldn't even wait until they'd crossed the street; he was out the door and coming to meet them halfway the minute he spotted them.

"Mr. Todd, sir. Anthony."

"Davy."

"I wonder, sir, if I could have a word with you." There was something very formal in the way Connor spoke, in the stiffness of his shoulders.

Todd raised an eyebrow. He stopped in the little courtyard, which was now long since deserted, and nodded. "Of course."

"I'll just go in and—"

"You'll stay. Go on."

"Mr. Todd, there is something I want to ask…" Connor cleared his throat and tried again. "I'd like to ask you if…that is, if you would mind if..."

"Spit it out, Davy."

"May I have your permission to court Johanna, sir?"

"Do you love her?"

"Oh yes sir. Very much."

"What does she have to say about this?"

"I don't think she'd have any objections, sir."

"We'll see." Todd stepped to the door and leaned into the shop, where Johanna and Mrs. Lovett were finishing the chores. "Johanna?"

"Yes, Father."

"Join us for a moment."

She hurried out, wiping her hands on her apron. "Yes sir?"

"This boy wants my permission to court you."

She was all wide-eyed innocence. "Anthony? But I thought…"

Connor sputtered, and she giggled.

"Well? Do you _want_ him to court you?"

She bit her lip, as if she were considering. At last she gave them a sweet smile and said, "Yes. On one condition..."

o~o~o~o~o~o

Somehow Anthony managed to from laughing. He waited while Connor and Johanna reached an agreement and sealed it with a chaste kiss, then went inside to help Mrs. Lovett clean up. Eventually, Todd followed him in and took his usual seat.

Mrs. Lovett scowled at him until he moved his elbows and let her wipe down the table. "Where's Johanna?"

"She went for a walk with Davy."

"W'out a chaperone?" she said in mock horror. "Mr. T!"

"I think she's safe enough. Not sure _he_ is, though." He shook his head. "I wonder if he really knows what he's getting into."

"Course 'e does. They're a good match, them two, jus' like th' two o' you." Mrs. Lovett stopped, raised her eyebrows at Anthony, and added, "Looks t' me like y' tired from y' own walk. Why don't you an' th' boy go on up t' bed."

Anthony almost dropped the platter he was holding. "Mrs. Lovett!"

She laughed and swooped by to take it from him. "Don't worry. I'll make sure y' work double hard t'morrow t' make up f' t'night."

"Thank you, Mrs. L." Todd rose. "Anthony."

"I'll… Go on. I'll be right up." He waited until he heard Todd's footsteps on the stairs, then muttered, "You didn't have to say it like _that_."

"Why? Y' think I don' know what y' got on y' mind right now? It ain't th' shop."

"No mum."

Her expression softened. "I remember wot it w's like t' be young an' in love. Go on upstairs, boy, and enjoy y' night. I'll make sure Johanna stays down 'ere when she gets back."

"Yes mum. Thank you."

o~o~o~o~o~o

Todd was hanging his jacket on the rack when Anthony came in. He stopped just inside the door, suddenly shy. "Sir?"

Todd moved over to light the lamp near the bed, then lowered the wick. He pushed his braces down off his shoulders and began to unbutton his shirt. "Lock the door, Anthony. And be sure the curtains are closed."

Anthony's throat went dry. The bottle of oil in his pocket—which he'd bought from a leering shopkeeper who'd wished him a "happy evening"—suddenly seemed to have tripled in weight.

"Well?" Todd had finished with the buttons on one sleeve and the cuff fell loose about his wrist as he worked on the other. Anthony thought that the sight shouldn't have been so arousing.

"Yes sir." He clicked the lock and fiddled with the curtains, oddly reluctant to face Todd.

"Is something wrong?" He hadn't heard Todd's footsteps, didn't know how near he was until he felt Todd touch his shoulder. "Couldn't you find the oil?"

"No, sir, I found it, but it's..."

Todd remained silent, waiting.

"I didn't think we'd come up here and just...just..._start_."

"Why not? I'm sure Mrs. Lovett thinks we will. I know _you_ want to."

Anthony turned then. Dim as the light was, he could see something in Todd's expression that made him ask, "Yes, sir, I suppose I do, but do you?"

"Course I do." The answer was too quick, and too devoid of emotion.

"Wouldn't you rather just...talk or something for a while first?"

"Talk?"

"Yes."

"About what?"

"I don't know, just...something."

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid you think that this is something you _have_ to do and you just want to get it over as fast as you can."

"Anthony…" Todd raised a hand, then let it drop. "It's something I _need_ to do. Do you understand?"

He did, and he hated the understanding. "Did he hurt you that badly, sir?" he blurted out.

Todd was silent for so long that Anthony was about to apologize, but then Todd murmured, "I think he managed to hurt me more than anyone else ever did. Not...not so much physically—I'm used to that—but here." He touched his chest quickly. "Knowing what all this had done to you...how I'd had to use you...how...unfair that was, to you."

"But it's over now."

"Is it?"

"Surely with time…" His voice trailed away at the look Todd gave him. He whispered, "I thought…"

"What? That just because you've made me feel—made me _want_—for the first time in years, everything is going to be all right? That because we're together now, _all_ your dreams are going to come true?"

Anthony felt young and ignorant again. "I hoped some of them would be your dreams too, sir."

"I don't have dreams anymore. All I've had for the past fifteen years are nightmares that won't _ever_ go away." There was an intensity in Todd's voice that was almost as bad as his anger. "I wish they would. I wish I _could_ have dreams again, but… _They_ killed my dreams. They had me for fifteen years…almost as long as you've been alive…first Turpin, and then all the others. So _many_ others."

"I know," he whispered.

Todd's eyes closed for a second and he shook his head. "I wish to God you didn't. If I'd known that someday we'd... I'd never have told you so much."

Anthony wasn't sure how to respond, except with a soft, "It doesn't matter. I love you. And I'm not like them. I wouldn't hurt you."

At the words, Anthony's mind suddenly went back to that night on the _Bountiful_, when Todd had spoken of his years in prison, when he _had_ almost hurt Todd that way, when he had _wanted_ to hurt Todd that way. He could tell from the way Todd ducked his head that he was remembering it too.

"That was different. And you _didn't_."

"But I wanted to."

"But you _didn't_."

At the last word, he stepped forward, pulled Anthony's face down to his, and kissed him. Anthony wrapped his arms around Todd, holding him, being kissed and then kissing back, until he felt the shame of the memory wash away from him, kissing him again and again, their bodies so close that Todd couldn't fail to feel his response. So close that he couldn't fail to know that Todd was _not_ responding at all.

"Sir, I want _you_ to enjoy..."

Todd shook his head. "Let it go, son."

"But..."

"Not tonight." Todd leaned back slightly so that he could look at Anthony. "Do you remember me saying that there wasn't enough soap and water in London to make me feel clean?"

"Yes sir."

"And you asked if there was anything you could do to help me."

"Yes sir."

"This is what you can do. Please. Do this for me tonight." He almost smiled. "You're the only one who's ever made it...not unpleasant."

He kissed Todd again and nodded.

They broke apart and Todd held out his hand. Anthony placed the bottle in it, then began to remove his own clothing. When he looked around again, Todd was naked and moving himself into position on the bed. Anthony watched him and thought of all the times he'd been forced to do this, and he thought his heart would break.

"Wait. Don't…not just yet. Let me touch you first. Please."

With a sigh of resignation, Todd shifted onto his side, sliding forward so Anthony could slip in behind him. "It won't change anything."

"It will for me. When I...do what you want me to, I want you to know that it's someone who loves you, not just someone who..."

"I know."

They didn't speak again for a long time, kissing and exchanging touches, until at last Todd whispered, "I think you're ready now."

More than, but still he hesitated. Todd reached for the bottle, caught one of his hands, and dropped it onto the palm. "You know what to do."

He did—knew what he'd done before—but it didn't seem right, didn't seem to be _enough _tonight. He slowly opened the bottle and poured some of the liquid into his hand, coating his erection as Todd moved back onto his knees. He lifted the bottle to pour some on Todd, then stopped. Instead, he wet his fingers with the liquid and then, moving slowly, proceeding cautiously, slid one into place. Todd started and gasped.

"What are you doing?"

"Just..." He didn't really know the answer, only that it seemed a thing he should do. He added a second finger, moved them ever so slightly, exploring, until he heard Todd's breath catch. "Did that hurt you?"

Todd's head moved quickly from side to side. Encouraged, he continued what he was doing, feeling the muscles begin to relax and accept him.

"Anthony."

"Yes sir."

It seemed to him that their bodies joined more easily this time than they had before, and he heard Todd give a sigh of relief. He leaned forward to kiss Todd's back, and then he did what Todd had asked him to.

Much later, as he lay beside Todd with his cheek against the scarred shoulder, Todd kissed his forehead and whispered, "Thank you, Anthony."

"Do you feel…better now?"

"I feel _cleaner_ now. Knew I would."

He snuggled closer. "I love you, Ben."

Todd made a quiet sound that might have been, "I know."

o~o~o~o~o~o

"I'm going to tell Davy I'll be back next Monday."

They were lying together in the faint light of almost dawn, Anthony idly sliding his hand up and down Todd's arm. He blinked, wondering why Todd was thinking about Davy and the barber stall _now_. Besides...

"It's too soon."

"Been almost three weeks. It's time."

"But you're not ready. You're still—"

"Weak?" Todd pulled away, flinging his legs over the side of the bed and stood, all in one motion. "Doesn't take much strength to stand and shave men all day." He reached for his trousers and jerked them on.

Anthony sat up. "But sir..."

Todd spun, eyes flashing. "I'm sick of being _useless_—doing _nothing_ to earn my keep."

"You don't have to worry about—"

"And don't _you_ have work of your own to do today?" Todd reached for his shirt, buttoning it with quick, angry movements.

"Sir..." Anthony wanted to reach out to Todd and beg forgiveness. He'd thought they were past this sort of thing, that no matter what Todd had said, everything would be all right from now on.

_All right. _ He wondered if he'd ever stop being reminded how very naive he was.

"I'm going out for a walk." Todd didn't bother to stoop to tie his shoes, just shoved his feet into them, grabbed his jacket, and was gone. All Anthony could do was listen to the quick footsteps going down the stairs and hope Todd wouldn't trip over the laces.

o~o~o~o~o~o

"Ain't _you_ lookin' all gloomy this mornin'."

"Sorry, mum." He kept his eyes on the dough, folding, kneading, folding again.

Mrs. Lovett put her hand on top of his. "Wot's wrong? Don' tell me y' two 'ave already 'ad another row."

"He said he was going to go back to working with Davy. I said it was too soon."

Mrs. Lovett reached across the table and gave his ear a hard twist. He looked at her then, blinking with pain and astonishment.

"D' you wan' t' lose th' good thing y' 'ave, y' silly boy?" she snapped.

"No mum, but..."

"Y' gonna smother 'im if y' not careful."

"Smother…? Mr. Todd?"

"'e's not a child. 'e's old enough t' know wot 'e can do and wot 'e can't. If 'e says it's time, then it's time."

"But he's still—"

"No!" She placed her hands on hips and glared at him. "D' y' _want_ t' drive 'im away? Y' not 'is mother, Anthony." A corner of her mouth twitched. "Least I 'ope not, th' noises I 'eard comin' from up there las' night."

He was too shocked to blush. "Did Johanna hear…?"

She did laugh then. "Only teasin' y', love."

"Thank God."

She became serious again. "Y' need t' give 'im some room. Don't…'ang over 'im all th' time, always askin' if 'e's okay. 'e might not mind right now, but…"

"He minds," Anthony whispered, remembering.

"Ah. Then let 'im be. 'e'll tell y' if 'e needs 'elp."

"Will he?"

"I know 'ow y' feel, boy. 's easy t' think Mr. T's somebody wot _needs_ lookin' after, all 'e's been through, but 'e's a lot stronger than y' think."

"I know." He reached up to rub his ear, hoping she wouldn't notice.

"Y' got flour on y' face now."

"Yes mum."

"Don' y' forget wot I said."

"No mum."

When Todd came into the shop half an hour later, Anthony quickly poured a mug of hot tea and took it to him. He set the mug on the table and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"I am too, boy." Todd wrapped his hands around the mug. "I am too."

o~o~o~o~o~o

"I'll be back in just a minute, Anthony." Johanna's eyes were sparkling. "Connor's here."

He nodded. As usual, Connor had arrived as the evening crowds were thinning; he and Mrs. Lovett could easily handle the few patrons who were left. Busy with the dishes, he barely noticed her absence, until he glanced out into the courtyard and saw her sitting at one of the tables with Todd and Connor, their heads close together, talking. There was something in Todd's face, something uneasy that the other two didn't seem to be aware of. He moved behind the counter, so he could watch them through the window.

Connor was talking expansively and gesturing to illustrate his point, and Johanna was laughing with him, but Todd... Todd's hands were clenched beneath the table and he was staring past them, into nothingness. Anthony knew that look far too well.

He wanted to join them immediately, go sit by Todd, ask if he were all right, but he stopped himself. Mrs. Lovett was right. Todd would tell him when—if—he needed Anthony's help. And when Connor looked back at Todd, Todd seemed himself again, smiling politely and nodding agreement with whatever proposal was being made. Anthony forced himself to turn away and go back to work.

Todd didn't come back into the shop afterwards. Johanna hurried in, apologizing for being away so long, and adding, "Father's gone on upstairs." She leaned close and whispered, "Davy's had the most wonderful idea for his return."

"He did?"

"Yes, it's...oh..." One of the men still seated had raised his tankard. "I'm sure he'll tell you all about it," she said quickly and hurried away for a refill.

It seemed to take forever for the last patron to finish and leave and for the three of them to clean the dishes and make things ready for the next day, but at last Mrs. Lovett and Johanna bid him goodnight and he was able to hurry up the stairs.

He was dismayed, but somehow not surprised, to find Todd standing at the window, staring out with an expression that made his heart almost stop.

"Ben?"

"What?"

Todd didn't move, didn't look at him, but at least he'd answered. Anthony crossed the room to stand beside him, wanting to touch him, not sure if he should. "I just wondered if..." He sought desperately for some way to ask if Todd were all right without asking. "If you wanted anything else to eat."

"No." Todd's voice was flat, toneless.

Anthony shifted from foot to foot, biting his lip to keep from speaking again, until at last the motion seemed to catch Todd's attention. "_What_?"

"Nothing. I'll just…"

"He wants me there on Saturday, not Monday."

"Sir?"

"Bigger crowds for what he has in mind."

"And what is that, sir?"

Todd finally turned his head toward Anthony and said quietly, "Let's go for a walk."

"Yes sir."

Anthony knew that, unlike the night before, _this_ was no aimless walk—this one had a destination and a purpose—but he had no idea where they were going until the archway leading to the marketplace loomed up before them. Todd paused briefly, then began to make his way through the deserted stalls to Signor Pirelli's. He stopped in front of the steps and stared up at the darkened stage.

"He wants me to go in back—into the wagon."

"Sir!" Anthony was shocked.

"Not..." Todd shook his head impatiently. "Not for _that_. He wants me to be in there, with Johanna, so I can make an...an _entrance_." He almost spat the last word.

And then Anthony understood. "Doesn't he know that there are ghosts in the wagon?"

"Only for me."

"But he should realize..."

"He's not _you_, Anthony." Todd squared his shoulders and put one foot on the bottom step. "I thought I'd be able to come back—be out here—without…" He took one step, then another, until he was on the stage. He stood there, staring at the wagon, shaking his head slowly. "I didn't think I'd have to go in _there_." His voice was barely audible.

Anthony hurriedly climbed the stairs to stand beside him. "Couldn't you explain? Surely he'd understand."

"And what would I tell Johanna? That I can't bear to go there because I… No."

He touched Todd's elbow. "Would you like to try to go in there now…with me?"

"You mean let me take _you_ into the back of the wagon and service you?"

The bitterness in Todd's tone made Anthony suddenly realize what he could do—what might be a solution to the problem. "No sir." He let his fingers close around Todd's arm. "Let _me_ take _you_ in."

Todd caught his breath. "Anthony…"

"If you think that would…help," he added. "If you wouldn't…mind."

Todd shook his head, but he didn't protest when Anthony urged him across the open area to the wagon. Anthony parted the curtain, letting the faint light from the outside show him the layout of the wagon, then slipped inside, tugging at Todd's arm.

"Anthony…"

"Shhh. Let me…"

He dropped the curtain, sending them into total darkness, and pulled Todd over to the spot where he'd seen Turpin leaning against the wall with Todd before him. That seemed like such a very long time ago now. He gently pressed Todd backwards, slowly and deliberately fit his body against Todd's from knee to chest, and kissed him. Kissed him, ran hands up and down his sides, caught his hands and laced their fingers together, broke his mouth free to kiss cheeks and eyes and chin and then lips again.

Anthony hadn't been at all sure that this would work—that he would be able to arouse Todd, especially _here_—but then he felt a pressure against his hip and Todd moaned his name.

It was awkward work, undoing Todd's trousers without breaking apart, but he managed, dropping to his knees as they opened so that Todd would slip free into his mouth. Todd moaned again as Anthony began to service him, using lips and tongue and more enthusiasm than skill, letting Todd go as deeply as he could stand and moving away only when his eyes began to water, again and again and again. He felt fingers in his hair, on his cheek, and arched up into the touch without breaking the connection.

When Todd gasped and his hips thrust forward, Anthony clung to him, holding him, as he shuddered and spilled, releasing him only when he felt Todd's knees start to buckle against his chest. He caught Todd as he sank down, easing him onto the floor and into his arms.

Todd's shoulders were shaking ever so slightly. Anthony tightened his embrace and forced himself to be silent until at last Todd went still and muttered, "Aren't you going to ask if I'm all right?"

"I'm trying not to, sir." He kissed the top of Todd's head.

"Go ahead."

"Are you all right?"

"I think I am, now. I think you've sent _this_ ghost away…just like all the others you've sent away. Anthony, I…" He faltered.

"Yes sir." Anthony smiled. "I know."

o~o~o~o~o~o

Word had spread—almost undoubtedly helped along by the Signor himself—that something important was going to happen at Pirelli's today. The crowd was so thick that Anthony thought he and Mrs. Lovett would never be able to find a spot where they would have a good view, but she lowered her head and bossed her way through the crowd, dragging him along with her, elbowing a tall, heavyset man aside and stepping in front of him.

"Here now!" he protested.

She glared up at him. "A man _your_ size shouldn't 'ave no trouble lookin' over th' top of m' head. I ain't closin' m' pie shop f' th' afternoon an' missin' a minute o' this."

Anthony shrugged an apology, and the man calmed and turned his attention back to the stage.

There was a quick and noisy shuffle of anticipation when the curtains parted, but it was only Toby. He gave them a cheeky grin as he hauled out Connor's barber chair and made sure it was in place, then went back for the second one. At that, Anthony heard Todd's name being whispered around him.

The third time Toby came out, he was carrying his drum. He moved to the side of the stage and began to beat a staccato rhythm on it until he was sure he had the crowd's attention, then abruptly stopped and announced loudly, "Signor Pirelli!"

Connor appeared with a swirl of his bright blue cape. He turned from side to side, bowing, accepting the applause, then removed the cape with a flourish and handed it to Toby. He spread his arms wide to silence the crowd.

"Signors, signorinas, mya lovely wifea, Johanna."

Johanna slipped onto the stage, eyes lowered demurely. Connor caught her fingertips and kissed them, then ushered her to the second chair. She perched on the edge and folded her hands in her lap.

"Anda now, returna to us froma his longa journey—Signor Sweeney Todda!"

Anthony cheered as loudly as the others when Todd stepped onto the stage, dressed completely in black clothing that accented the streak of white in his hair. Todd paused, and his eyes swept the crowd until they found Anthony. He smiled and inclined his head and deliberately let the edge of the curtain drop, then moved to the center of the stage and bowed formally to Connor.

To more cheers and applause, Connor seized his shoulders and gave him loud and showy kisses on each cheek. "Welcomea back, Meester Todda."

"A pleasure, signor." Todd's voice was as restrained as Connor's was boisterous.

"Thees isa a very speciala day. Mya lovely bride hasa asked a great favor ofa me." He glanced in her direction once more. She nodded and made a swift gesture, urging him on. After the laughter had subsided, he sighed and went on, "Becausea I lovea her, and I wanta her to bea happy, I havea agreed."

He turned to walk slowly toward his own chair, spinning on his heel to face the audience. "Meester Todda."

"Signor."

"I ama _ready_!" He dropped into the chair and closed his eyes as if awaiting execution.

Todd looked to Johanna, waited for her nod, then moved behind the chair. He took the cloth from Toby and flipped it around Connor, tucking the ends into the back of his jacket. Eyes dancing with amusement, Toby held up a silver platter. Todd took something from it, then, with a dramatic gesture, raised his hands to show a comb in one and scissors in the other. The crowd roared. And then Todd went to work.

Connor's eyes snapped open at the first cut, and he gave a memorable performance, grimacing as if in pain, pulling his hands from beneath the sheet to wring them, and muttering about what his "sainted mother" would think. Todd worked quickly and quietly, with an economy of motion that left all eyes upon Connor's antics. It seemed only a few moments before he carefully removed the cloth and took a step back. Toby rushed in to sweep up the loose hair.

"Signora." With a wave of his hand, he invited Johanna to examine his work.

Connor slowly raised his hands to his close-cropped hair and moaned theatrically, then turned his head to look at Johanna. She had risen and was circling the chair, examining Connor from all angles, nodding slowly.

"Oh Adolpho, I had no idea you were so _handsome_!" To everyone's delight, she leaned forward and gave him a brief quick kiss on the lips.

Connor clasped his hands together. "Ah, I weela havea the haircut every day fora such a reward!"

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then perhaps we'll talk about that hideous blue suit next."

He looked genuinely stricken. "Hideous?"

"Desperately so, my love."

"Now who's for a shave?" Todd called.

As the crowd began to disperse, except for those queuing up for a shave, Johanna bent to whisper something to Connor, then shook Todd's hand, then looked toward Anthony and Mrs. Lovett. Anthony hurried forward to steady her as she descended from the stage.

"Y'know," Mrs. Lovett muttered as they started back to the pie shop, "as good a show as y' put on, I might jus' 'ave t' let one o' 'em cut _my_ hair sometime."

"As good a show as you put on, you ought to start charging admission."

Johanna linked her arms through theirs and giggled.

o~o~o~o~o~o

_Epilogue – Three Months Later _

Anthony finished the last bite of cheese, wiped his hands on his trousers, then leaned back against the tree beside Todd. "This has been a good day." He didn't expect a reply, so he wasn't surprised when Todd remained silent. He half-closed his eyes and watched his friends...his _family_. Toby and Mrs. Lovett were playing some game involving sticks and marbles. Johanna and Connor were walking hand in hand, talking quietly, Connor occasionally bending to steal a quick kiss.

"He'll be asking you for her hand any day now."

Todd grunted. "About time."

"She's going to be a beautiful bride. I know you'll miss having her around—_we_ certainly will—but I think they're going to be very happy together."

"Are _you_ happy, Anthony?"

The question startled him. "Of course I am."

"You don't wish you were Connor? That you had someone like Johanna—someone young and fresh and beautiful."

"I think you're _more_ beautiful than Johanna."

"Then someone—"

"I have the only person I've _ever_ wanted," Anthony interrupted.

Todd grunted again. "Don't you ever wish you'd gone back to sea? Had a more exciting life than living above a pie shop and being a baker?"

"No sir. Never."

"Are you sure?"

Anthony straightened, his relaxed mood gone. "What is it, sir? Is something wrong? Have I been smothering you again? Is it...are _you_ unhappy with _me_?"

"No." Todd was staring at the ground between them. He pulled a few blades of grass free and began to twist them between his fingers. "I just..." He was silent a moment, then suddenly muttered, "I do, you know."

"Sir?"

"I didn't understand because... It's not like with Lucy. What I… It's not the same. None of it. It's different, but…" He finally looked up, and said the words in a rush. "I do love you."

"I love you too, Ben."

And then Todd gave one of his half smiles and nodded and almost whispered, "You know, maybe I _will_ have dreams again."

o~o~o~o~o~o

Johanna _was_ a beautiful bride.

Theirs was a small, quiet wedding, since Connor and Johanna had supposedly been married since the night of Turpin's death. Johanna wore blue—a pale dress with lace and ribbons, and a wreath of blue flowers in her hair. Todd, obviously uncomfortable in his tight, formal collar, escorted her into the chapel and stood by her side until the moment came when he handed her over to her bridegroom. Then, with a sigh of relief, he stepped back to stand beside Anthony and Mrs. Lovett and Toby.

Mrs. Lovett sniffed and blew her nose throughout the ceremony. Anthony patted her shoulder and Toby rolled his eyes and Todd stared straight ahead, unblinking.

After the ceremony, Johanna hugged each of them in turn, holding on to her father for long moments and whispering something into his ear that made him smile and kiss her cheek And then she and Connor were gone, off for what he had told his customers was "a latea honeymoona".

"What we gonna do now?" Toby asked as their carriage drove away.

"Now?" Mrs. Lovett grinned. "_Now_ we're going to go home and all live happily ever after."

o~o~o~o~o~o

They didn't, of course. Although he mellowed with time, there were always times when Todd would be overtaken by dark moods. But Anthony could always coax him out of them, and they loved each other, and so, when bad times came and bad things happened, they compensated.

o~o~o~o~o~o

I can't apologize enough for taking so long with the last few parts of this story. I promise that if I ever decide to write _another_ long and rambling fanfic, I'll be sure it's _finished_ before I start posting! Oh wait. _This_ one was mostly finished when I started sharing it, but then it made that AU turn and tripled in size and...here we are, finally, done, with a happy ending. I know some of y'all seemed worried that I'd kill Todd, or that it would _not_ end well, but (as I said too often to Evil) I wouldn't have even _considered_ taking it AU if I hadn't known it would _not_ end with Todd bleeding out in the bakehouse.

Many thanks are due to many people. First and foremost, to my friend Miss Becky, for the beta and the encouragement and the visit to Fleet Street. This would never have happened without her. Thank you to everyone who's read this story and sent me such amazing feedback. You folks have made me laugh and cry and think I can really write. Thanks to everyone who read but _didn't_ comment. I hope _all_ of you are happy with the way this turned out. Last, thanks to Tim Burton, Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Jamie Campbell Bowers, Jayne Wisener, Sacha Baron Cohen, Alan Rickman, Timothy Spall, Edward Sanders, Laura Michelle Kelly, and everybody else involved in turning my second favorite musical into a film that managed to exceed even my _highest_ expectations.

Although this has driven me crazy with the trying to get parts of it "right", it's mostly been a really fun trip. Thanks again, and happy holidays!

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